


Dear Yuri

by Kei on Ice (Maki_Kei), Mr_Beans



Series: Dear Yuri [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, He's a sassy little punk, Letters, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Painfully domestic, Slow Burn (Adoption), Younger Yuri Plisetsky, parenting AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:18:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 67,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maki_Kei/pseuds/Kei%20on%20Ice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Beans/pseuds/Mr_Beans
Summary: After winning a gold metal at the Grand Prix Final together as coach and student, Viktor and Yuuri decide to settle down and start careers as coaches under Yakov. The classes they coach range anywhere from singular, experienced students, to a regular group of small children from a nearby orphanage. But when the orphanage brings along a young, stubborn, blond Yuri with determination in his eyes and fire in his step, he quickly seizes hold of Viktor and Yuuri's hearts.-MATURE CONTENT CAN BE SKIPPEDI know it's not everyone's cup of tea, so in order to appeal to a larger audience I have labeled chapters as ".5" with mature content warnings, so people may skip them if desired.(In fact, I've given ratings to all chapters individually. Most chapters are rated "T".)*Please Note: If there are any important interactions or encounters within mature chapters, they will be summarized in the notes of the following chapter.





	1. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[T]: This chapter is clean with a little bit of banter

A heavy, musky scent wafts into Viktor’s nose from the black fringes that are tickling it. He buries his face deeper into the mass of ruffled hair, the feeling of warmth and security sinking deep into his being.

“Viktor… Too tight,” a familiar voice rises from the mass nestled firmly in his arms.

“Yuuri~…” Viktor breathes, groggily. The words fan out over the nape of Yuuri's neck, causing the fine hairs that are growing there to stand on end. Viktor feels the body in his grasp squirming to break free, and begrudgingly releases him.

“Hello, good morning.” Yuuri greets, now fully turned around, reaching out a hand to cup Viktor’s cheek, whose eyes then flutter gently open to see into his fiance’s chestnut stare. Viktor relishes in the fact that Yuuri's eyes are dilated and glazed from sleep, yet simultaneously filled with all kinds of affections.

They hold each other's gaze captive for a few sweet moments before Viktor leans in and plants a kiss against Yuuri’s soft lips. Yuuri reciprocates, their lips gliding over one another effortlessly and practiced before they tilt away, just far enough to break for air.

“VITYA, YUURI, HURRY UP AND GET DOWN HERE, WE ARE GOING TO HEAD TO THE RINK SOON.” Yakov bellows from the floor below. Viktor sighs.

“Our sweet mornings never last, do they?” he whines. Yuuri flicks his nose, then lightly presses his lips against it.

“There's always tomorrow morning.” Yuuri preens. Viktor can't help the smile that sneaks across his face, and as Yuuri moves to get up Viktor locks him into a strong hug, toppling them back down onto the bed.

“Ever the optimist.” Viktor says into the crook of Yuuri's neck, his breath ticklish and causing Yuuri to burst into uncontrolled laughter. Viktor swoops up this opportunity to flirt with his fiance, swiftly snaking his hands into Yuuri’s shirt, brushing against his sides gently so there’s not much friction.

“V-Viktor- S-top-- !!” Yuuri stammers between giggles, as Viktor’s sneaky hands find their way under Yuuri’s armpits. He brushes his lips against Yuuri’s clavicle, eliciting a shudder and audible gasp that cuts into his laughing.

Yuuri tries to use his hands to fend off his attacker, but Viktor grabs them both and pins them down to the bed. He stares upon the disoriented and disheveled mess he's made of his fiance, smirking affectionately while giving Yuuri a chance to catch his breath.

“You play dirty.” Yuuri gasps.

“No, Yuuri, I play to win.” Viktor chuckles. He bends down and kisses Yuuri's clavicle properly now, moving his kisses up his neck and across his jawline before gingerly peppering his face with them. Then, slowly, he finally settles on Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri parts his lips to allow for Victor’s tongue to slide through, gliding over the tops of his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Yuuri then flicks his own tongue forward unconsciously, thrusting past Viktor’s and into his mouth, causing him to let out a brief, low moan.

“VITYA, YUURI!” Yakov reminds them. Viktor tips his head back, and the disappointment on his face causes Yuuri to snicker.

“Looks like we are actually going to have to start being responsible.” Viktor pouts, sitting up. Yuuri takes this as an opportunity to slip into Viktor’s lap and close the gap between them once more.

“Don't worry, we can always pick up where we left off, later tonight.” Yuuri flirts amorously, letting his tone drop to a deep purr, gently nipping at the shell of Viktor’s ear before pulling away to look at him with hooded eyes.

“I can't believe you're the same boy who could only compare eros to katsudon before,” Viktor whispers back. “I'm a lucky man.”

“I'M the lucky one, Viktor Nikiforov, five time consecutive Grand Prix Gold Medalist.” Yuuri all but whispers playfully against Viktor’s ear, pressing his lips into his cheek.

“Alright, alright, enough of that before I lose my cool and Yakov does too.” Viktor laughs, gently nudging Yuuri off his lap and rising to his feet.

Yuuri lets out an overly exasperated sigh. “Fine, I guess I'll just have to wait.”

“You're torturing me,” Viktor teases back. He sifts through a drawer in his dresser, looking for a pair of underwear. “Huh, I could have sworn I had at least one other clean pair.”

“You know, this wouldn't happen if you'd just do the laundry like I ask.” Yuuri stalks up behind him, propping himself on his toes in order to rest his chin on Viktor’s shoulder and wrap his arms around Viktor’s chest.

“Yeah yeah,” Viktor rolls his eyes sarcastically. He pauses, looking down at what was clearly not underwear. “Huh, what's this?”

“What's what?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor slides a quaint, antique little box out from under the undergarments - which is basically all Yuuri’s, as Viktor never cleans his - shaking it a little. “It seems familiar but I can't quite remember why.”

“Open it.” Yuuri urges.

Viktor obliges, pulling the lid from the box and revealing its contents. He reaches in, pulling out one of many small, charming envelopes addressed to him.

“Wow, that's my handwriting!” Yuuri exclaims.

“Yeah, I remember these, they are from before you came here to Russia,” Viktor chuckles fondly. “To think after the finals we thought we could ever be apart for any measure of time.”

Back then they had their own things to take care of, both in their own countries. It had been about a month, an excruciating month, before they were back on to practice again for the next season's Grand Prix Final. During that month Yuuri wanted tangible contact with Viktor and suggested sending letters. It worked well for about a week and then that empty hole opened up inside his gut again.

‘I want to see you.’ Yuuri had written out. It seemed like a waste of postage to send it, but Yuuri couldn't possibly care about that, couldn't think of anything else to write. He could have called Viktor up online, even texting would have sufficed.

Days later, he was awoken by a buzzing. Light leaked out in a gentle stream from his phone, and with each vibration it moved more precariously to the edge of his bedside table. Eventually he picked it up, but now the light hadn't been so gentle, the white smile of Viktor’s contact picture seemingly making the light even brighter as if to blind him.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice was quiet and sincere from the other end.

“You didn't have to call, you'll have to pay more for long distance.” there was a soft chuckle on the other end, warm and inviting.

“How is everyone?” Yuuri blinked, thinking it over for a moment. The question was trivial, and the following conversation mundane, but in the end it was all Yuuri needed. The voice behind the words, the laughter that followed it. They spoke of his family, of how cold it was in Moscow, what mischief Makkachin had been up to that week. On the surface it was nothing different from the letters, but it made a world of difference for Yuuri’s heart. It became impossible after that for them to go long without a call, or text. It was his mother who finally said it.

“Yuuri, we love you, and love having you stay with us too, but just go live with him. We can manage just fine.” with just that, it was settled. It felt like years ago now, like another life where the two barely knew each other. The letters were always a private embarrassment to Yuuri, some sounding so lonely and destitute, closer to morning Viktor over just missing him for a few months, but he still kept each one.

They now flip through Viktor's hands, politely opening and caressing them one by one.  

Viktor knows each with just a glance, having learned them all by heart. Some look more tattered than others, but each of them are worth more to him than anything else he owns. He pauses as he notices a brand new white letter, standing stark against the others. He turns to Yuuri, who is still smiling on his shoulder.

“What’s this.” Viktor questions. Yuuri’s smile broadens, nuzzling Viktor’s neck.

“I have no idea,” he denies, though Viktor can feel his excited grin. “Open it~”

“I have the strangest feeling you have every idea what this is.” Viktor cooes, pulling open the parchment.

“And so what if I do? I doubt you'll enjoy its contents any less.” Yuuri states, his breath warm and damp against Viktor’s ear.

“What's gotten into you?” Viktor chuckles, removing two laminated cards from inside. No, not cards, tickets.

“I just want my future husband to have a fun birthday.” Yuuri’s voice drops low and quiet, his hands finding their own agenda now by drawing circles into Viktor’s thighs.

“Tickets to the ballet?” Viktor says with mirth in his voice. His smile drops for a moment as he reads one of the tickets, turning to Yuuri. His voice is flirtatious, but his expression is touched. “This show is sold out until January.” Yuuri touches his index finger to the page. Viktor blinks, shaking his head.

“My goodness, they just so happen to be for Christmas,” Yuuri feigns a surprised gasp, “That’s your birthday, isn’t it?” much to Yuuri’s delight, the reaction he gains is that of Viktor's arms lifting him at the waist and kissing him full on. Yuuri lets out a small giggle of a gasp, wrapping his arms around his fiance’s neck, taking in his very expensive ‘Christmas-day-tickets-to-the-nutcracker’ kiss.

Yakov slams the door to their apartment open just as Yuuri’s shirt finds its way to the floor. “YOU BOTH HAVE 10 MINUTES TO GET DOWN HERE BEFORE I SEND YUURI BACK TO JAPAN.” From there it is really quite remarkable how quickly the two finished dressing, eating, and prepping for the day.

As was in their daily routine, the love birds come down to the locker room in a cloud of PDA. Today perhaps just a tad more adamant; teasing, nipping, and flirting as they went through a few stretches. Viktor is just in the process of holding Yuuri’s skate covers just out of reach in exchange for a kiss, - a kiss that there is no way Viktor will get via such underhanded methods - when Yakov shows up at the door, full of grumpy baritone and borscht.

“You two are teaching the orphanage class today, so please try to actually behave.” Yakov barks, before walking back through the locker room doors and out to the lobby. About fifteen minutes later he returns, but there are around twenty small girls, a few young boys, and a very worried nanny following behind him.

“Aaah, how cute!” Yuuri says softly under his breath. Viktor bumps his elbow gently into Yuuri’s shoulder, giving him a tender smile.

“Alright kids, these two will be showing you the basics of skating,” Yakov instructs. “First they will be getting you warmed up and situated with your own pairs of skates, then they will take you out onto the rink. If you have any other questions, they will be taking it from here.”

“That's right, we will be your teachers today!” Viktor declares enthusiastically, grabbing Yuuri’s far shoulder and pulling him in close.

“Alright boys, I'm headed off to teach my own students. I trust you CAN take it from here?” Yakov asks with a clap to Viktor’s shoulder.

“Of course, when have I ever let you down?” Viktor chuckles, but his voice trails off slowly as Yakov’s expression grows hard. “Yeah, don't answer that.” He returns the pat on the shoulder as Yakov walks past him.

“Smooth.” Yuuri jokes, slipping a finger through one of Viktor’s belt loops.

“Who here has been skating before?” Viktor says, ignoring the quip. Yuuri and few children raise gloved hands. One girl raises her hand with a little more force than the others, but Viktor seems not to notice, smiling his million dollar smile. “Good! We’re going to start out with stretches first,” Yuuri politely tugs on Viktor's sleeve, nodding towards the little one. “What's up?”

“I have to pee…” she says, dancing a little.

“Oh, okay,” Viktor says with a chuckle. “Who else has to use the bathroom?” he asks, and every kid raises their hand, causing his eyes to flutter open wide in surprise.

“We've been out walking in the cold for a long while.” the nanny apologizes.

“Oh, no, that's fine!” Viktor reassures, “Guess the first part of our lesson today is standing in line for the potty!”

Yuuri admires the playfulness in Viktor’s voice that causes the kids giggle, the way he is so good with them, with people in general, how his eyes light up in such a way that makes every kid in the room feel comfortable with him in an instant. He could swear he even feels every bit of tension in the room melt away. Well, all the tension except that of a single, stoney-faced, short child with long blond wisps falling into their face as they clung tightly to the nanny’s hand.

Yuuri watches the child as they walk, Viktor leading the group to the bathroom with a song. Yuuri guesses it is a nursery rhyme, or something that Viktor has made up on the spot; both are viable options. The blond little girl Yuuri would estimate to be five or six, and wore a glare too fierce for a child of this age. It wasn’t uncommon for the kids they taught to be a little shy, or even frightened of skating, Yuuri thinks, remembering what it was like starting out.

“Hey,” Yuuri approaches the nanny with a grin, before crouching down in front of the girl, “Are you excited to skate?” she slunk behind the nanny shyly, tugging her arm. “Ah, what a good girl she's being, not talking to strangers!” Yuuri’s smile drops as he notices the girl lunge forward.

“I'M A BOY!” he suddenly shouts, aggressively in Yuuri’s face.

“Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!” Yuuri stands up quickly, embarrassment and realization washing over him.

“Yuri, please! Be nice!” the nanny scolds.

“Yuri?!” Yuuri exclaims, “Hey, that's my name too!”

“WHAT?! That’s confusing! We don't need two Yuris!” the little boy spits.

“Oh, uh,” Yuuri stammers, “There's not much we can do about that, can we?” he slips up in his Russian, suddenly finding it hard to dig the right words out if his brain.

“Maybe you should just go away, then there wouldn't be two Yuris! Idiot!” Yuri hisses.

“Yuri Plisetsky! What have I told you about your manners!” the nanny scolds, bending down to look the small kid in the eyes.

“But I don't like him!” Yuri glances over at Yuuri, then back to the nanny. Even though it came from a young child, it still somehow stings in Yuuri’s chest.

“Yuri,” the nanny pinches his right ear and turns his head to look Yuuri in the eyes, “Apologize!”

“No.” Yuri shuts his eyes to avoid looking at him.

“Is there a problem?” Viktor asks, ruffling Yuuri’s hair in passing. The angry child hid further behind the nanny’s leg, glaring at Yuuri’s reinforcement.

“Ah, uh, nothing important.” Yuuri dismisses, switching to English as he is too stressed to remember the Russian translation. Viktor takes in the situation, and gives a warm smile.

“Yuuri, making children cry again I see,” he crouches down to the agitated child, “Don’t mind him too much, his Russian is pretty pathetic.” Yuuri exasperatedly nudges Viktor in the side with his elbow.

“I don't want to try skating anymore.” Yuri whines.

“It's… Too late for that now-” the nanny begins, but Viktor cuts her off by gasping over dramatically.

“You don't want to skate?” He drops his jaw, hands cupping his cheeks to emphasize surprise. Yuri shakes his head, and Viktor smiles and tilts his own head to the side. “That’s just fine. You can sit on the sidelines with Yuuri if you’d rather.” the child promptly reevaluated his choices, looking between the couple to decide which he trusts less - too young to see the manipulation, but just old enough to be suspicious of foul play.

“I will stay with Nanny, you two are creeps.” Viktor feels equally struck by the child’s tongue, but unlike his lover, he takes it into stride.

“Will that be okay with you?”

“I don't mind.” she sighs. Viktor leans down again, looking into the stubborn eyes.

“I’ll allow it if you, both, apologize.” he turns his smile to Yuuri, who feels no need to apologize as he has already done so, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

“I’m sorry.” he bows to the child, but little Yuri just glares back. A silence ensues, until at last in his smallest, most insincere voice, the child mumbled.

“Sorry.”

“Alright, that's settled!” Viktor’s face lights up, hands clapping together and feeling accomplished.

They stretch with the kids now, while waiting for them to all finish in the bathroom, showing them how to touch their toes or doing jumping jacks and the butterfly. The blond Yuri just pouts by the bathroom door. Once all the kids have taken care of their bladders and stretched their muscles, they all line up to be fitted with skates. Then, one by one, they step onto the ice, shaking like baby deer.

From there, the couple switch off from corralling the older kids and teaching the younger ones, until at last they all knew how to skate a straight line. Viktor steps off the ice to turn on some music, and Yuuri takes this moment to answer questions, and keep the kids upright.

One of the older kids, a boy of maybe twelve or thirteen - the age when sass is its ripest - raises his hand. Yuuri points to the boy wearing a smile, hoping this kid doesn’t use vocabulary he will have a hard time understanding.

“How do we know you're qualified to teach us these moves, when we haven't even seen you skate?” Yuuri takes a moment to translate the sentence in his head, then smiles at the boy. It takes Yuuri another moment, causing him to have a long pause, to formulate the Russian response before verbalizing it.

“Well, I used to compete, and before that I skated since I was your age.” he is in mid translation for some motivational spiel when Viktor glides to his side, wrapping his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, pop music playing upon his arrival.

“He’s only being modest! Yuuri’s a gold medalist, you know. That’s pretty qualifying if I say so myself.” Viktor beams. The younger children give an impressed gasp, the older ones not half so in awe by things they can’t see.

“Nuh uh, he’d be famous!”

“He is, though~ the famous Yuuri Katsuki!” Viktor laughs, then whispers quietly enough for just Yuuri to hear, “My Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri feels his face flush, and nudges Viktor away.

“If that were true then he could do a spin or a jump!” the boy observes, looking rather smug at his discovery. Yuuri doesn’t have to look at Viktor to know the expression of anticipation he wore. Yuuri withheld his sigh, smiling instead.

“Well, I can't give you all a demonstration until you leave the rink!” Yuuri chirps, hoping the fun of skating outweighs watching some geezer do a trick.

“EVERYBODY MOVE OUT!” one boy squeals, grabbing two of the nearest girls by the hands and propelling them all forward. All the kids hurry to the edge of the rink, and stumble off while trying to sit down. Yuuri sighs, feeling as if he's somehow lost.

“That means you.” Yuuri shoves Viktor off the ice as well.

“Yeah yeah, I'm going, I'm going!” Viktor chuckles.

Once the threat of slicing someone's face open is no longer apparent, Yuuri takes to the center of the rink. He propels himself backwards a ways, gaining speed before shifting his body around into a simple Triple Axel. The children shriek, cheering and clapping as loud as they can.

“Again!” a girl yells.

“Yes, Yuuri, show us a Quad Flip!” Viktor winks, and Yuuri pretends he doesn't see or hear him, instead sliding to a sudden stop, clapping his hands together.

“Alright, now who wants to learn how to ice skate?” Yuuri asks. Viktor and all of the kids raise their hands cheering. Yuuri couldn’t help but notice a small blond head, though silent, watching him now, a look of determination in those large, green eyes.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Did you see how talented Evangeline was already?” Viktor beams, having already learned all of the kids names, “And Alexei learns so fast! 

“Mm.” Yuuri hums, not really concentrating on what's being said, instead paying more attention to looking through the spice cupboard.

Viktor subconsciously pulls the curry powder from the top shelf and hands it to Yuuri. “Oh, but Yuri never did get on the ice. Though I did see him watching you, maybe that's a start!”

“Hey, could you go grab the rice hun?” Yuuri asks as he chops meat into small cubes. Viktor walks over to the rice cooker and presses the button to pop the lid, delivering the rice with enthusiasm.

“I'm really impressed and excited for all this new talent!”

“Taste this for me,” Yuuri sticks a spice and soy sauce dipped finger towards Viktor, who licks it gently. “How’s that combination?”

“Wow, interesting!” Viktor taps his index finger on his chin, “But, maybe try adding a bit of salt.”

“You want me to add salt to everything!” Yuuri complains.

“Because salt makes everything better.” Viktor smirks, leaning in towards Yuuri teasingly. Yuuri uses both hands to push his face away.

“Get out, I'm trying to cook!” Yuuri laughs.

“I'm just giving my opinion like you asked!”

“Get out!” Yuuri shoves him off the kitchen tiles, Viktor trying to resist but his socked feet betraying him with little friction to be had. He secedes from the fight, ambling over to the dining room table. Yuuri adds a bit of salt to the spices anyway, and after concluding that Viktor had been right, he mixes the combination into a small bowl of soy sauce.

One by one he adds ingredients to the wok. He sears the meat and veggies just enough to brown them, tossing the rice and soy sauce over everything and flipping it in the pan a few times before covering the fried rice. He lets the rest steam, grabbing drinks from the fridge.

“Mm, smells good~” Viktor begs more than compliments as Yuuri appears by the table.

“And you can be patient just a little longer.” Yuuri says.

“Why must you make your almost husband suffer so?” Viktor is nothing short of dramatic.

“Because SOMEONE didn't set the table.” Yuuri observes, placing the water pitcher and red wine by the vase of fake flowers.

“Oh, but you do it so much better.” Viktor purrs, hand softly touching Yuuri's. He stops, seeing the expression Yuuri wore, and decides to set the table.

Yuuri walks back over to the countertop, making finishing touches to the rice, but decides to go extra slow as he notices Viktor eying him instead of being quick about his chore. Realizing what Yuuri is doing, Viktor rushes to finish and seat himself.

“Yuu~ri,” He calls affectionately from the table, “I got it done quickly, so please just put an end to my waiting.” He whines.

“Alright, alright.” Yuuri snickers, finishing hastily and walking their bowls over to the table. He sets down his own dish first, craftily whisking Viktor’s out of reach every time he tried to grab it, before leaning forward enough to place it down and press a soft kiss into Viktor’s lips.

“Itadakimasu,” Viktor claps wearing  a playful grin. Yuuri reaches over to flick his ear, clicking his tongue but smiling warmly. Viktor is at last presented with food, shoveling in a grateful spoonful. Before Yuuri can even sit, Viktor is continuing his train of thought from before.

“They all looked so inspired by that triple axel,” Viktor observes. Yuuri digs into his meal, currently not wanting to talk about being peer pressured by twelve year olds. “I wonder if any of them will want to come back for a real lesson.” Viktor mused, tapping his lips with his index finger thoughtfully.

“I don't know.” Yuuri shrugs.

“I hope Yuri will skate next time.”

“Yeah, me too.” Yuuri sighs, taking a bite of rice from off his chop sticks.

“How do you do that?” Viktor asks with an ever so slight purr.

“Do what?” Yuuri snaps out of his previous absent minded state.

“Eat fried rice with chopsticks,” Viktor squints at the spectacle. “I can hardly eat sticky rice with chopsticks.” Yuuri has no idea why this is so amusing to him, he really doesn't. He doesn't know what's overcome him, but he starts laughing, really hard. His voice sends tremors through his frame, feeling like he will burst from lack of air.

“You're so…” Yuuri chokes.

“I'm so what?” Viktor asks, worriedly. The look on his face is priceless, making Yuuri laugh harder.

“You just went from food to ice skating to food again in less than a minute!” Yuuri coughs. Maybe it is the way Yuuri laughs, or maybe it’s the realization that what he is saying is true, but it starts Viktor into a brief bout of laughter as well. Yuuri comes to a panting halt, trying to regain composure.

“You'll have to show me how to use chopsticks, Japanese style someday.” Viktor teases.

“Want me to teach you right now?” Viktor nods, and Yuuri stands up to retrieve another pair. He returns to the table momentarily, handing the pair over.

“Alright, so you hold one of them like a pencil, right?” Viktor questions, mimicking a pencil grip on one of the chopsticks, then his eyes light up. He takes the other stick with his left hand in a pencil grip as well, and with a goofy grin he finagles a piece of meat between the two.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says incredulously. “You insult me.”

“I like to call it, ‘being creative’.” Viktor laughs.

“You asked for my help, what are you doing?” Yuuri reaches over to grab Viktor’s left hand for the chop stick. Viktor resists, trying to keep his hold on the utensil.

“No, no, honey. I've got this!” Viktor says, pulling his left hand into the air and out of Yuuri's reach. Yuuri wrestles Viktor until he coaxes the stick from his hand.

“Alright, enough,” Yuuri grabs Viktor’s right hand and places the chopsticks into it in the proper form. After about ten minutes of childish banter, Viktor finally manages to pick up his first grain of rice and Yuuri’s dinner has already gone cold.

“Say, Yuuri,” Viktor almost whispers, Yuuri only hearing it because he is standing with his chest against Viktor’s back, still cupping his right hand with his own from his previous attempts at helping his fiance scoop up rice. They both turn their heads to look each other in the eyes, holding each other's stares for a long, intimate moment before Viktor continues. “Have you ever thought about having children?”

“Viktor,” Yuuri chuckles, “Isn’t one enough?” The joke came out so naturally, Yuuri hardly thought twice about it, but internally wanted to kick himself.

“Isn’t one…” Viktor repeats trailing off until realization hits him. “Excuse me?” He feigns insult.

“I mean, I just took ten solid minutes trying to teach you to use chopsticks.” Yuuri plays along with his prior sarcasm. The nuance hits Viktor and he gives a smile.

“Ah, but wouldn’t you like a child perhaps a bit cuter, and younger, someone you can teach to set the table or do dishes?”

“...You want a kid so you don’t have to do your chores?”

“...Um… no?” Viktor’s voice is playful, and teasing. Yuuri rolls his eyes, sitting himself back at his plate.

“I don’t mind, however you can’t even take care of yourself, let alone another human. One who solely relies on you.” Yuuri picks up some food, thinking it over as he chews. “Kids are not the same as dogs… they have thoughts and opinions. A kid is a big responsibility, especially for a man who is currently wearing dirty underwear.” he continues his brutal teasing. Viktor stays silent, and for a moment Yuuri runs through the words he's muttered in his head, thinking he may have gone too far.

After scooping all that's left of his dinner into his mouth, Viktor abruptly stands, walking his bowl over to the sink and rinsing it off. “There, see, I took care of my dish, I can take care of a child,” Viktor jokes, before turning and walking back to Yuuri.

“Think less inanimate.” Yuuri calls over, putting another scoop of rice into his mouth.

“Yuuri~” Viktor breathes, warm and damp, right into Yuuri’s ear. “I take care of you just fine.” His hands trail up Yuuri’s navel, his shirt pooling over Viktor’s wrists.

“I’m still eating...” Yuuri grumbles.

“Well I'm still hungry,”

“There’s more rice in the wok.”

“I want something more… authentic.” He let the last word roll, hot and flirty. Yuuri felt a tingle roll down his spine, he shudders, turning a glare in Viktor’s direction.

“Go do the dishes and THEN we’ll talk.”

“You were the one who said we could, ‘pick up where we left off’, tonight.” Viktor hums. Yuuri turns, raising a hand to Viktors chin. He tilts his head ever so slightly, smiling a breath away from his lover’s mouth.

“We can pick up where we left off... and perhaps more… If you go do the dishes.” Yuuri urges sensually. Viktor leans in, but Yuuri pushes away, his hand sliding over his lips. “Dishes first.”

Viktor rushes to the sink, doing as he's asked. Yuuri enjoys his meal in silence, free no of past shenanigans, and once he's finished he takes his bowl and hands it to Viktor, who promptly adds it to the stack.

“I'm going to go get ready for bed.” Yuuri breathes against Viktor’s neck, kissing it before heading off.

“Don't fall asleep.”

“No promises.” Yuuri teases, the door closing behind him.

Viktor stands there in silence, mulling over their conversation, doubt and paranoia overtaking him as he finishes his task. Was he really not ready for kids? Maybe Yuuri was avoiding the topic at hand because _he_ didn't want kids. His fingers drum into the lip of the counter in contemplation, more and more questions sprouting in his mind.

_Click!_

Viktor’s eyes move over to the source of the noise in surprise, forgetting all about the fact that he'd already started running the dishwasher. Right. Bed. He washes his hands, reaching up to dry them on the washcloth that is draped over the faucet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen many people talk about making an AU where Yuri is Yuuri and Viktor's son, but I haven't actually seen very many fanfiction where that is the case.
> 
> So I decided to take this idea to the next level, by starting Yuri Plisetsky out younger, like, really young, the age of five or six young. Everything is the same as in the canon, except that since Yuri wasn't there to win gold, Yuuri did, and he and Viktor moved on to being cute and domestic. I am hoping to turn this into a long series, so please bear with me.
> 
> Hey, give us a shout out on [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/) if you'd like, or drop us a comment here! Hearing your guys' feedback is what motivates us to keep going!


	2. 1.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Viktor is hurt, and sex can't solve everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[M]: This chapter contains Mature Content

“ _Yuu~ri_ ,” Viktor affectionately calls as he enters the bedroom, his eyes falling upon the lump nestled in the comforter. Is he seriously pretending to be asleep? If that's how he's going to play…

Viktor saunters up to Yuuri’s side of the bed, sitting gently. Leaning down, balanced on one hand, Viktor presses a kiss into Yuuri’s neck, soft and polite. He places his free hand against Yuuri’s plush hip, and lets his lips part against the warmth, sucking skin into his mouth, calmly but firmly mauling the sensitive area. He takes his time, nursing the mark before letting go.  

To Yuuri’s credit, he remains completely still, muscles tensing, breath quickening, but never moving from his spot and refusing to utter a sound. Viktor loves a challenge.

He kisses the mark, licking it like a wound. Dragging his way above the marred skin, he slowly repeats the motion again, pressing higher and higher until he wraps his mouth around Yuuri’s lobe. Eventually he lets his hand roam down as well, pushing under the waistband of Yuuri's sweatpants and boxer briefs, pausing at the hem. At last it is too much, light fingers touch his thigh, quiet but present, holding him back, but with no intent of stopping him.

“Goodnight.” Viktor whispers into Yuuri’s ear, withdrawing his hand. He stands to walk to his side of the bed.

“...Viktor…” Yuuri whines in a small voice, one of his hands darting out from under the covers to grab Viktor by the wrist.

“What is it?” Viktor asks with a tender smile, cocking his head to the side quizzically. Yuuri simply makes a small noise, almost a whimper, instead of an actual response. Viktor tugs his hand free. “I won't know unless you tell me.”

“Come back…”

Viktor turns his head, a small grin sneaking across his face. He covers his mouth with his hand, taking a moment to regain composure and pull his mouth back into a line. He obliges, sliding into bed behind Yuuri, who has to scoot over a bit so he can fit.

“I could have just finished walking around the bed.” Viktor chuckles. Yuuri turns his body around to face him, wrapping a hand around Viktor’s neck and pulling their foreheads together.

“I was worried if you had that you would have just run away.” Yuuri tips his head forward and to one side, fitting their lips together and hovering there a moment, both taking each other in. Yuuri’s hand tugs him closer, turning his head to make room. Viktor runs his tongue across Yuuri’s bottom lip, imploring, Yuuri’s lips then parting in reply.

“Mm,” Yuuri hums as hands pull up on his T-shirt, stopping when it has reached the pull of his underarms and tugging softly a couple of times. “Viktor?”

“Off.” Viktor urges, and Yuuri slides the shirt over his head.

“Yours too.” Yuuri takes the hem of Viktor’s shirt between his thumbs and index fingers. Viktor raises his arms to help his shirt off, and no sooner have their torsos been freed that their faces are together again.

They tangle together, finding their limbs and lips locked. Arms wrap around Viktor’s shoulders, fingers press into Yuuri’s hips. They kiss deep. A gasp pulls them apart, barely long enough for any air. Yuuri’s hands wander up and down Viktor’s shoulders and back, and as new marks make their way onto Yuuri’s neck, he begins moaning quietly in response. He seems to sink deeper and deeper, head lulling back, eyes closing.

Viktor pushes his thigh in between Yuuri’s legs, sending a wave a sensation up Yuuri’s spine. His voice is precious, high and needy, sounding desperate. Yuuri bites his bottom lip, covering his mouth, turning into the covers. He hides, but doesn’t run, pressing forward and rolling his body into Viktor, desperate for the friction.

“Viktor…” Yuuri moans. Viktor’s breath hitches, his panting hot against Yuuri’s clavicle. “Please…”

“‘Please’?” Viktor asks.

“Please,” Yuuri pants into his hand, his other hand gripping the back of Viktors belt and tugging gently

“‘Please’, what?” Viktor gloats, taking Yuuri’s hand away from his mouth and kissing the palm.

“We’ve been together for three years dammit... You know what,” He snaps. “Just… Please.” He utters the last part so softly, so urgent, it causes Viktor to halt in his teasing and turn abruptly around to search through the bedside table. He returns to Yuuri’s side with a feminine looking bottle, and placing it atop the pillow he leans back on his knees.

Yuuri looks down his chest at Viktor, for a moment just breathing. His lips turn up into a knowing smile, and slowly he places his hands on his chest. His breath is slow and hard, his body rolling into his hands, gliding his fingers down tantalizingly low before hooking his fingers under edge of his pants, tugging ever so slowly.

Viktor grabs Yuuri’s waistband, impatiently helping him to tug off his sweatpants and boxer briefs. Yuuri feels his body become heated when glancing up to see the look in Viktor's eyes. His pupils are blown with arousal, but not distorting the stormy blue color as he works on his belt, impatiently removing his own pants by himself before scooping up the bottle from the pillow, suddenly in a hurry.

“Turn around.” Viktor directs, and Yuuri does as he's told. He hears the click of a cap, flinching and screwing his eyes shut as cold, wet fingers slip across his ass. A single slender finger slides in, and is hesitant for a short moment before twisting. Yuuri shudders, a small noise escaping his throat. Viktor leans forward and around Yuuri’s body to catch the sound by pressing his mouth against Yuuri’s, heavy kisses, firm and distracting, complementing his hand’s motion in a way that leaves Yuuri breathless. A moment later Viktor adds a second finger, his hand standing still once more until he is positive that Yuuri’s body is used to it, before curling and parting them to achieve the stretch Yuuri needs.

“Viktor…” Yuuri begs once the third finger is inserted.

“Patience.” Viktor coaxes, just as close and feeling equally as impatient. After far too long yet not long enough, he pulls his hand away. Yuuri shudders with the sensation, hands clawing the covers.

Yuuri turns his head around, using an elbow as leverage to reach up and plant a sloppy kiss against Viktor’s chest, watching from a side glance as Viktor liberally pours more of the clear liquid into his hand and moves it hastily over his own length, before opening Yuuri’s legs wider by the thighs.

Yuuri lifts his head, closing his eyes and letting out a soft breath. His heart is loud in his chest but his desperation is louder. Viktor leans down, pressing his mouth against the base of Yuuri’s neck.

“Yuuri.” His voice is serious, deep and velvety, lips hot against Yuuri’s skin. His hand is snaking around Yuuri’s hips, down his abs and finally gently between his legs. Yuuri gasps, a high and whining sound, his head lulling back against Viktor.

“No games.” Yuuri pleads. Viktor can feel that Yuuri is close, that just one movement will likely tip him over his limit. Viktor chuckles, breath hot on Yuuri’s shoulder. He lets go, moving his hand back to spreading Yuuri’s thighs.

Pressing in causes Yuuri’s breath to hitch, and Viktor hesitates to make sure he is alright. “No, ahh, games…” Yuuri repeats through his teeth.

“Sorry...” Viktor mouths against Yuuri's shoulder blade, and then pushes in, hip to cheek. Yuuri can't help but cry out, a loud and glorious sound. Viktor pauses briefly, taking in the scene with all his senses. The sound Yuuri had made is still fresh in his ears, the feeling of him against his hips, the taste of his skin as Viktor presses his tongue and scrapes his teeth gently against it.

In just a few moments Viktor has built up a steady rhythm, accented in small noises as Yuuri bucks his hips, trying to hit the right spot. Viktor helps him search, eventually grazing against it and eliciting a shuddering, loud moan.

“Ah! ... Viktor,” Yuuri pants, “Harder.” Viktor clenches his jaw, thrusting harder, the headboard slamming into the wall. Viktor can tell Yuuri is almost at his peak, mewling with every breath.

“Yuuri, together.” Viktor warns.

“I can’t!” His voice is high, his body tense, every part of him building into a warmth he cannot fight, “Vi-Viktor!” He calls as his back arches into Viktor’s chest and fingers tangle themselves in the sheets.

“Yuuri, I'm sorry.” Viktor grips Yuuri firmly, coming to a sudden halt. “I need to see you.” His voice is rough and wild, without hesitation. Yuuri obliges once Viktor pulls out, turning as gracefully as he can. The sight he finds turns his stomach over. Viktor is close, his eyes distant, messy silver hair falls into his eyes with helpless abandon... He picks up his rhythm fast, his pace becoming quicker, harder, deeper. His mouth opens as if to speak, but finds no words.

Yuuri can’t help himself, and pulls Viktor down agressively, smothering him in deep, soulful kisses. He lets his breath come short, lets the kiss be sloppy, allows his voice to sing into Viktor’s mouth. Yuuri pulls him at last from whatever was on his mind, his body tensing as he grits his teeth, his rhythm broken, becoming erratic. He becomes lost in himself, begging for every inch of the sensation. It hits Yuuri, flooding over him in a hot rush, filling him. He feels it again, bigger this time, longer, dizzying, he feels himself curl tighter around Viktor, gripping to him like an anchor, his very being overwhelmed with the pleasure of it. He closes his eyes, rolling his hips into it even as it fades, grabbing at every bit he can get.

Both finally fell into a panting heap, breathing hard, but otherwise still. Yuuri turns to kiss Viktor's ear as he slides his hands around his shoulders, humming warmly. Viktor gives a small groan before re adjusting, pulling himself free to nuzzle into Yuuri, hugging him close.

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathes into his hair. Yuuri hums in reply. “I was being serious before.” Viktor says softly, his voice dark and genuine. Yuuri doesn't even need to ask, he knows exactly what Viktor is talking about. In fact, he knew the whole time that Viktor was being serious before. He hadn't been blind to the way Viktor had smiled at those kids, beamed and been so happy teaching them. He is always happy teaching the kids, ever since the two had retired competitively and taken to coaching.

“I know,” Yuuri sucks in a breath of air, exhaling shakily. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's our [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/) for anyone who'd like to chat!


	3. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Viktor plays his passive aggressive card, and Yuuri is very nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[G]: This chapter is literally the cleanest thing
> 
> *In case anyone skipped it, here's a brief summary of the important encounter in chapter 2:
> 
> Viktor is feeling hurt by Yuuri's words, but instead of facing the problem at hand, they seek a distraction. At the end of the day, Viktor admits to having been serious about wanting children, and Yuuri admits to having known the whole time.
> 
> No further discussion was had, and thus continues the couple's game of beating around the bush...

The gold band that is snug against Yuuri’s right ring finger brushes against his face, cold to the touch and pulling him away from his quickly forgotten dream. He tosses his hand out, the sheets cool and empty beside him.

“Viktor?” Yuuri murmurs, black lashes fluttering open as he looks for the aforementioned. He rubs the sleep from his eyes before sitting up for a better view, glancing around quizzically. Bathroom? No, where he had been would be warm if that were the case. Guilt twists its ugly knots into Yuuri’s stomach as realization crashes over him like an ocean wave. Out walking Makkachin. Viktor only walks Makkachin this early when he is feeling hurt or anxious about something. He rolls to where their phones normally sit, seeing that now only his is sitting there.

He pulls it close, turning on the power to check notifications, flipping through his timeline and to his dismay, finding no clues. Should he text him? Would Viktor mind his walk being disrupted? Yuuri closes his eyes to think it through, before returning his phone to the table.

Yuuri slips out from between the covers, shivering as the chilled morning air caresses his bare skin. “Clothes…” He breathes the word more than he says it, ambling over to his dresser and fumbling through layers of cotton, passing by many a prestigious piece of clothing before settling on one of Viktor’s old, tattered, long sleeved hoodies, wriggling his way into it and perching his metal frames on his nose. Once fully clothed and able to realize hunger, he patters down the stairs of their flat and into the kitchen, putting a kettle on.

The room feels so large and empty when Viktor isn’t around to joke and tease and fail at manipulating Yuuri. It makes the knots in his stomach become just that much tighter. He wanders back into the bedroom to collect clothing from the floor, gathering it together in the basket.

Yuuri forgets sometimes about how sensitive Viktor can be. Though he rarely shows it or plays it up as hurtful, he is human. Yuuri picks up the basket, taking it to the mud room and sorting the clothes by color while replaying all the things he’d said the night before. He feels as if every word is another stab to his heart, feeling guilty for everything he teased Viktor over, wishing he’d been less critical over the question.

It had caught him by surprise, honestly. While he understands Viktor is serious about the topic, he thought the question had been a joke, everything was a joke with Viktor. But his reaction said otherwise. That silence that, even now, cut into Yuuri.

_“Say Yuuri... Have you ever thought about having children?”_

Yuuri knows that isn’t such a random thought. That even though the conversation had never happened, Viktor had thought about it no doubt, probably dozens of times. Yuuri had too. He has always liked the idea, that’s why he agreed to teaching kids. He likes kids. That isn’t the issue…

A jingle of dog tags and keys broke the silence of the apartment. More jingling, then the sound of claws on tile as the dog bounds through the kitchen. A new wave of guilt washes over Yuuri, as he hears Viktor speaking to the dog. He silently wishes he doesn’t have to see Viktor, his heart is already packing more guilty than he can handle.

“Yuuri?” Viktor calls, placing his keys on the counter.

“Yes?” he can’t help feeling apprehensive, though there is nothing to fear.

“Were you making tea or coffee?” Viktor asks, placing a plastic bag down with the keys. Then in a much quieter voice “No, not for you Makkachin. Sit.” followed by the dog’s soft whine.

“Tea?” Yuuri asks. There is no response, just the sound of cabinets opening and dishes clanking together. Yuuri sighs, his heart telling him he’s in trouble, though his mind knows otherwise. He closes the washer, adding the soap, listening to the sounds of Makkachin being fed.

Viktor is, heaven help him, putting away the dishes, a clean mug sitting out with Yuuri’s steeping tea in it. Viktor smiles as Yuuri walks in.

“Yakov says to be ready in half an hour.” he laughs to himself. “He seemed really surprised to see me so early.”

“Well, we were ten minutes late yesterday, and late every other day this week as well.” Yuuri agrees. Viktor reaches a hand towards the counter, pointing out a bag.

“I brought home pastries, also if you want some of my left overs you are welcome to them,” he sounds so cheery, bright and sunny, but that is almost worse than pouting. Yuuri looks in the bag, finding a little pastry box with fancy swooshy scribe across the front, and a white take out box.

“Thank you. This was very sweet.” Yuuri smiles warmly.

“I was out, and thought of you.” Viktor chuckles. There is no kiss, Yuuri notices. No touch, no, ‘but you’re sweeter.’ It is a passive aggressive warfare and Yuuri is losing badly. Viktor closes the dishwasher, walking up to Yuuri, “I’m taking a quick shower.” as he leaves a peck on Yuuri’s cheek, then walks off to the bathroom.

That could not have gone worse.

Neither could the rest of the day. Every hour is a stressful repeat of that morning, cold and distant, not even the temptation of egging on the teenagers in the junior class prompting Viktor to do anything outwardly flirtatious. It was terrible.

Not even just Yuuri notices the aloof mood Viktor is in, the other skaters and even Yakov could see it as well. Though to them he was no different, one would have to be blind not to see the cold shoulder Yuuri is getting.

Yuuri leans over the barrier, watching one of Viktor’s private lessons with his head resting on his arms. It isn’t uncommon for kids, especially the richer ones, to request private lessons from Viktor, more often than not making him the bread winner. Yuuri never minds, normally he finds joy in it, seeing Viktor in his environment, more natural on ice than walking on two feet. Yuuri watches the smile Viktor wears as a student pulls off a jump, or finishes a program from start to finish, feeling nostalgic of the days when that was him. Today, seeing the smile just hurt.

He wants to say something. He wants to skate up to him and apologize with every second that passes. But part of him doesn’t know how, isn’t sure exactly what he’d done in the first place.

“Hey Yuuri!” The familiar sound of Mila’s voice pulls him from his negatively spiraling thoughts. She skates up to the wall, stepping out onto the floor.

“Hello.” Yuuri sighs. Mila gives him a sympathetic look.

“You two finally had a fight, huh?” Mila keenly observes, clicking red skate guards over her skates. Yuuri buries his head into his arms, sighing harder.

“Not even a real fight. Just me being an Idiot.” Yuuri pouts. Mila walks over and pats his shoulder, smiling.

“You could just apologize.” she points out. Yuuri wishes it were this simple.

“I’m not even sure what I’ve done… Or at least, how to apologize for it.” Yuuri looks up to speak, just in time to see Viktor land a simple flip, his sweatshirt tied at his waist and rippling with the speed of it. He uses the momentum to return to the side of his current student. Both were too far for Yuuri to hear, but Viktor is clearly explaining the trick to her.

“Well… ‘Sorry’ has always worked for me,” Mila gives him a knowing smile. “Most of the time that’s all it takes.” Yuuri doubts it. He has never seen Viktor this upset before. For crying out loud, today Yuuri has achieved less physical contact with Viktor than he had even before they were officially dating, let alone engaged.

“I think this is more than a simple sorry can satisfy…” Yuuri concludes. Mila shakes her head, but her retort is interrupted by her phone. Yuuri is abandoned as Mila retrieves her phone from her bag. Judging by her sudden disinterest in Yuuri’s problem, he guesses that it was a message from Sara. Neither are retired, meaning their relationship is often long distance. Yuuri would never understand how they make it work. He stands feet away from Viktor, and still feels as though they are too far apart. How does such a simple question drive such a hard steak between them? After all this time, all these years, now suddenly they’re having issues.

“Lord Yuuri look at her costume for her free skate!” Mila’s phone is shoved under Yuuri’s nose, forcing him to lift his head to see the screen. It’s a selfie of Sara in a silver and blue dress, dripping with pearls and rhinestones.

“Yes, very pretty.” Yuuri confirms, adjusting his glasses. Mila pulls her phone back, smiling down at it.

“Yes, she is…” Mila sighs happily. “Oh, and Sara says you should try getting him a gift, to attempt breaking the ice,” Mila adds, clicking off her phone and collecting her water bottle. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, something small and cute maybe!” she drinks thoughtfully before capping the bottle suddenly, struck with an idea. “Oh, get him one of those yearly Christmas ornaments! Then you’ll both have an everlasting memory of this glorious argument~”

“I’ll think about it.” Yuuri gives her a polite, ‘thanks-but-no-thanks.’ smile. “Thank you for your help.” Mila cocks her head, smirking.

“Well, you do know him best... After all, you got this far with hurricane Nikiforov.” Mila laughs. “Somewhere in that brainy bank of yours you know exactly how to apologize, you just have to stop stressing and think,”  Mila gives him a firm pat on the back and a “Good luck.” before lifting her bag to her shoulder and disappearing into the locker room. Yuuri is left alone once more to watch his childhood idol from afar, wishing he could speak to him, as though he were back in time again.

Yuuri presses his face farther in his arms. What can he say? ‘Go ahead and adopt a child, anything to make you happy dear.’ Yuuri couldn’t do that. If Viktor asks for something, Yuuri has no problems giving it to him, even if he teases him along the way. But this? This is a whole new level of wanting. A new and scary want. A tiny human growing under his care, relying on him, looking up to him, needing him to be a perfect role model to mold them into a proper citizen. That is not even in the same galaxy as a tv, or another dog.

That is terrifying.

He can’t say that he hates kids or that he actually worries that Viktor will be a bad parent. Neither are true. He loves teaching the kids, and knows Viktor does too. He knows that Viktor can be a good, if not great, father. Yuuri doesn’t have the same confidence about himself. Teaching a kid the same lesson over and over is much different from raising an actual child of your own, and that terrifies him. What if he were to say the wrong thing, what if they can’t afford to keep them? Neither have a stable job, relying mostly on classes and whatever sponsor money they have left from their competitive careers. For them, this is enough if not more, but can it support a child as well? Neither have any honest idea about the cost or maintenance of caring for a child.

They would have to adopt, and unless Viktor wants to fly a kid from overseas, the child would be Russian. Therefore will only speak russian. Which is very much not Yuuri’s forte, and how can he raise a child he can’t speak to?

How can he explain this? To explain the fear and distress the idea gives him. How excited he is to try, but mortified about the outcome. How can he just dash Viktors hopes because he’s not fluent in Russian? How can he tell the man he loves more than life, ‘no’?

“Yuuri?” Viktor calls, tugging Yuuri to attention as if pulled by a string. Viktor stands facing him, gliding towards him, with a smile as bright as the sun. Yuuri can’t help his heart fluttering, even after all this time. How can someone so perfect even know his name, let alone wear his ring? “Can you demonstrate for me?”

“Ah, yes!” Yuuri stutters, walking quickly to the door. He pulls off his guards and steps onto the ice, pushing off to where Viktor stands, and is speaking to his student. He catches the last bit of the instruction.

“It’s all about keeping your posture.” he turns. “Yuuri, a single Lutz please.” Yuuri does as he’s told without hesitation. He lands in hopefully perfect form, turning his head to watch Viktor, who is talking to his student again. No praise, not even a clap. Something has to be done, and it needs to be done now.

With a breath and as much confidence he can muster, Yuuri skates to Viktor’s side. Viktor’s arms are crossed, watching his student’s attempts at a lutz.

_Now or never Katsudon_

Yuuri’s hand touches Viktor’s shoulder, his smile at it’s warmest.

“Viktor.” He speaks just loud enough to be heard, no need to make a commotion.

“Hm?” Viktor acknowledges him, eyes fixed on the young skater.

“We haven’t had a date for a while.” Yuuri is wringing his hands behind his back.

“Don’t be scared Irina, you have all you need.”  Viktor directs. Yuuri takes a moment from the conversation to watch the girl glide backwards, looking behind herself nervously. “You have until the count of three Irina, you cannot stall.” He directs. The girl gives him a nervous look, in exchange, he smiles warmly. Yuuri can’t speak for the girl, but _he,_ at least, feels encouraged.

“Один,” Viktor begins counting from one, his Russian warm and husky. Yuuri hears the playful tone of it, and smiles.

“Два,”  Irina shifts her skates, building speed. Viktor’s lips turn up at the corners.

“Три.” Viktor emphasizes the word, adding anticipation on top of the girl’s anticipation. The rink fills with the sound of skates scraping, a pause, then the resounding familiarity of metal striking ice. Yuuri lets out a cheer, clapping for her, though she herself looks shocked. Her eyes lift to her coach as if to confirm she’d done it, and Viktor beams, glowing with pride.

“I did it?” Irina blinks, looking down at the mark she left behind. “I DID IT!” her hands clap together, over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Vitya!”

“See, and all of that worrying for nothing!” Viktor chuckles.

“I can I do another?” Irina asks, as if she even needs permission.

“I bet you can.” Viktor challenges, “I bet you can even do two or three in a row.” Irina looks less sure than he is. “I’ll bring you honey cake next lesson if you try.” Irina’s eyes light up, feeling the challenge and taking it upon herself. She turns around to pick up speed again. The couple watch together for a moment, seeing the determination they both know so well, a passion they both share.

“I think that’s a good idea.” Viktor’s voice is quieter now, and it catches Yuuri by surprise.

“Me?” Yuuri forgets why he’d come over here in the first place. Viktor’s arm wraps around Yuuri’s waist.

“Of course, you,” Viktor’s eyes are focused on his student, but his voice is thick and sweet, his fingers pressing Yuuri closer. “I think a date sounds fun.” Yuuri feels the words on his tongue, he just has to say it!

“Doesn’t the Christmas Market open next week? If not, we could go shopping and maybe eat out for dinner?” Yuuri Katsuki! That is _not_ an apology. Irina stumbles as her skate catches the ice, but stays upright, looking unsteady and determined.

“Oh! That sounds fun!” Viktor pulls Yuuri ever so slightly closer in the side hug. “I’ve been in need of a new scarf, perhaps new dress shoes. _You_ are in desperate need of socks.” Irina lands her second lutz, this time keeping her balance and standing tall

“Next day off?” Yuuri asks. Viktor pulls his hand away to clap, as the young skater lands it her third time.

“I knew you could do it!” Viktor cheers. “Let’s run through your program once, and then practice it again, yes?”

“Can I add it?” Irina asks.

“Can you?” Viktor laughs. Irina nods with a broad smile, a new confidence in her eyes, and moving to the center of the ice to begin her program.

“Yes, next day off.” Viktor answers, nodding, his eyes watching his student intently, wanting her to know he cares.

“Perfect.” Yuuri wants to kiss him. He thinks it improper during a lesson, he realizes the conversation itself is not something that should have happened either. Yuuri thinks himself stupid and knows Viktor must too. “I have an appointment in a few…” Yuuri pushes back, sliding away. Viktor’s hand takes Yuuri's, pulling it to his lips to kiss it, then lets it go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The morning market is bustling, streets lined with vendors spilling over with colorful fabrics, glittering jewelry, fresh fish and produce. It's one of those old fashioned looking markets, a rarity in this day.

Past that is a large, open mall, and Viktor’s eyes seem to light up at the sight of it. They make their way through, window shopping at various stores and actually shopping in others. Soon, both of their arms are dressed in bags, full of things they likely don't need.

“Ah, look at how cute!” Viktor is beaming about a small, charming cafe.

“Want to go in? Take a break?” Yuuri asks almost more for his own sake than Viktor’s.

“Let's!” Viktor nods, strolling up to pull a chair out for Yuuri to sit at - who takes the genteel offer - and joins Viktor in freeing his arms of bags onto another chair. Viktor almost skips up to the front counter to order lattes. Yuuri looks through the menu at possible dessert items that can feasibly go with the flavor he is sure Viktor will go with; a holiday special of rich dark chocolate and peppermint.

Yuuri knows that at some point he needs to apologize, needs to talk. This is why he's brought him out all this way, Yuuri reminds himself. He peers around the menu at Viktor, whose back is towards him, fidgeting in place while taking in all the sensory input the cafe has to offer. Yuuri loves how Viktor does that, loves the subtlety of it.

It’s only a moment later that Viktor is at the front, the cashier looking stunned, as Yuuri guesses Viktor is obliviously charming him into an unintended discount. Yuuri loves this as well, even if it means drawing other’s attention, because he loves everything about Viktor. He loves the way Viktor adores children. This is why it’s so seemingly impossible to bring the subject up in the first place.

Yuuri glances around at his surroundings as he tries to gain confidence, before being struck by a sudden idea. He digs through one of the bags, the one from the little hobby shop that sold nick nacks and collectors items around the corner - Viktor had been so fascinated by everything in there, entranced by something he called ‘whimsical’, but quickly getting drawn to something more ‘eerie’, and thus somehow more interesting than the happier looking item, no matter how many other whimsical and eerie objects had, or would, catch his attention.

Finally, Yuuri yields the leather drawn box he’s looking for, and opens it to remove the blue Visconti fountain pen Viktor had been so intent on buying, saying it had caught his attention by the striking bronze embellishments and that he, ‘must have this pen’. Snapping closed the case of the excessively expensive piece of office supplies, Yuuri reaches for one of the brown napkins that is sitting in a dispenser at the center of the table. He begins writing, a letter at first, but about ten napkins in he’s at a loss for words.

“What a beautiful pen, I can’t remember buying that!” Viktor chirps as he approaches with steaming coffee. Yuuri sighs. Of course he can’t.

“Would you like some help?” Yuuri asks, whisking the napkins aside so Viktor won’t see.

“I’ve got it, it’s just two cups of coffee.” Viktor reassures.

“Let me take mine.” Yuuri insists, removing one of the cups from Viktor’s hand, gripping it firmly around the cardboard zarf. They sip in silence - well, Viktor sips - as Yuuri tries to think of something, anything at all that is appropriate to express how he feels. He decides that really nothing is appropriate when expressed on a paper napkin, and thinks back to he and Mila’s conversation for ideas, eventually he deciding. Quickly, he tugs another napkin from the holder, and smoothing it out in front of himself he jots down the words that circle in his mind. Then he thrusts it towards Viktor before the latter has any time to react.

_‘I’m sorry’_

Viktor stares at it blankly as Yuuri fiddles with the lavish pen cap. They stay silent for a moment.

And then, slow but surely, Viktor begins to laugh. It’s under his breath at first, but it momentarily bubbles up into something more contagious, something purely and so distinctly human that it engulfs Yuuri. A snicker claws its way from his throat, regardless of how he tries to hold it in, before blowing up into full fledged laughter. Viktor’s hand knowingly darts across the table to rest over the top of Yuuri's free hand, and their eyes meet. No words are spoken, but their silence conveys more than words will.

Everything will be okay. No matter the outcome.

That's the wonderful thing about trusting someone with everything you are, you can sometimes just tell, without speaking. Some of his prior stress leaches out from Yuuri’s shoulders, rolling down his body, through his legs before dispersing into the floor. He sighs a relieved and fulfilled sort of sigh, placing the pen finally down on the table and retrieving his drink. Viktor doesn't move his hand from Yuuri’s until they've both downed their coffee, and he only does so to pack up all their stuff and dispose of their cups. Just as they move to leave, he tucks the napkin into his pocket and takes Yuuri’s hand once more.

“Where to next?” Viktor’s tone has an ever so slight lilt to it, the kind that has been missing throughout the rest of the week.

“I don't know. Let's allow the shops to just take us away.” Yuuri suggests. Viktor nods, smiling warmly.

They exit the food court, wandering aimlessly for a good half an hour, the noonday sun being the closest thing to warmth the city has seen for months. Once upon a time they would have filled the day with more vigorous shopping, slipping in and out of every store like it was a sport, but now they walk calmly in the chilly streets, feeling no need to shop, simply looking at the sites. Especially all the Christmas decorations, set up mostly for tourists.

“Maybe we should get a tree.” Yuuri ponders, smiling towards Viktor.

“We don’t have ornaments or decorations for it.” Viktor points out.

“If I ask to buy a tree you say we have no ornaments, if I offer to buy ornaments you object that we have no tree.” Yuuri laughs. “This argument just goes in circles.” Viktor gives a smile, tapping his nose.

“Exactly~” Viktor muses. “We don’t have room in our appartment for such things.” Yuuri lifts his bag laden arms and eyebrows incredulously. “ _That_ is different.”

“Name one thing we bought today.” Yuuri accuses. Viktor touches his chin a moment, thinking.

“A very pretty pen.” Viktor recalls. Yuuri gives him a look, and says nothing more on the subject.

“I think it would be pretty, a tree in the living room, a small one.” Yuuri continues. “Makkachin might like it. Something to sniff.”

“Makkachin is violently opposed to Christmas, don’t you know? He goes stark raving mad whenever he’s reminded of it.” Viktor explains.

“Then Makkachin can sleep in the mud room until the 26th.” Yuuri resolves. “If that’s not enough, then he can come to our room, he’ll never see the tree.”

“Ah, but what about the pine needles? They’ll be everywhere. And heavens knows, _I_ won’t remember to clean it.” Viktor places a hand on his chest, the motion almost condescending.

“Just think of it for a moment. A tree in the far corner, white and yellow lights shimmering against the reflective ornaments, glass creating rainbows to dance across the green of the pine needles,” Yuuri turns to Viktor, his hands cupped together as if holding the fragile decoration. Viktor isn’t there. Yuuri furrows his brows, turning completely around to search for the silver head of his fiance.

Viktor is not far off, only a couple steps behind. He must’ve seen something shiny, new and far too expensive for practicality. Yuuri, with this in mind, takes a few steps back to follow his gaze. He expects to see a watch, or perhaps a handmade silk tie. What Yuuri does see, instead, makes his heart ache.

Across the street, in a quaint shop window, balanced on a pedestal, is a pair of children’s skates.

“Viktor…” Yuuri breathes. His name seems to pull him to the present, eyes darting away from their target, as he fakes a laugh.

“That does sound beautiful Yuuri. Come, let’s look at trees.” Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand, leading him forward a few steps. He can’t look at Yuuri, hiding his emotions. Yuuri pulls free and takes a step back. Their eyes meet. Yuuri can see it clear as day on Viktor's face, he can see the sad longing, the raw emotion of Viktor’s expression.

“We need to have a talk.” Yuuri concludes, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry there wasn't any Yuri in this chapter, but I promise the next few chapters are going to be full of him! In fact, after chapters 5 or 6 the story will mostly revolve around Yuri.  
> Link: [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/)


	4. Clear as Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Viktor is unknowingly a bit pushy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[T]: This chapter is clean... mostly.

Viktor takes the papers from the woman, smiling politely in her direction. “Thank you so much for your time.” she stands from her office chair, offering him a hand.

“My pleasure, Mr. Nikiforov,” they shake, “If you have any more questions, feel free to call.” She assures.  

“I will, thank you again.” Viktor’s head dips in a bow, his beautiful boyfriend's habits clearly rubbing off on him.  

“We hope to see you again soon.”

“Me too!” Viktor chirps, stepping out of the office room and into the hall. He devotes most of his attention to reading the pages, with only a slight thought towards not walking into a wall. He stops for coffee, picking up breakfast as well. The morning had been bitter and icy, so Viktor made the executive decision to wake neither Makkachin, or Yuuri up for this errand, finding his own way in the treacherous tundra with very little difficulty.

He finds a comfort when it is this cold, It means bundling up in thick coats, scarves, and gloves. It means the sobering winds, and lots of pretty snow. It does, however, make it difficult to read loose papers when a giggling gust of wind attempts to grab it. With the papers tucked away in his pocket, Viktor makes his way home, sipping thoughtfully at his, ‘just a might too hot’ coffee.

_ “We need to talk…” Yuuri had said, his expression unreadable. A lump caught in Viktor’s throat. He hadn’t meant for this; not for any of this awkward week, the one that  _ he _ had caused, he knew he shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. Of course Yuuri would be apprehensive, of course he thought Viktor couldn’t be a father, he should have known better than to hope. _

_ “It’s okay, you’re right, I am irresponsible.” Viktor grinned, showing teeth, a professional fake smile. “No need to dwell on shortcomings, yes? Please forget it.” Viktor’s grin faltered, seeing Yuuri firmly hold his ground. _

_ “It’s not about you, If it were I would say yes in a heartbeat,” Yuuri was serious, watching Viktor’s eyes firmly. “You’re kind, caring, and you are ALWAYS reliable! You excelle at everything you do with more commitment and motivation than anyone I know, and kids just love you! There is no doubt in my mind that you could be the best father in the world.” Yuuri exclaims. His hands grip the bags, shaking... with anger? Frustration? Viktor guessed it was probably both. “It’s not you…” Yuuri repeats softer, his voice lowering, and for a moment there was silence. A few pedestrians stopped to watch them as Viktor took a step forward, touching Yuuri’s shoulders, feeling their slight tremors. Yuuri looked at his feet, sad and almost defeated. “I’m scared...”   _

Viktor opens the door to their apartment as quietly as he can manage, though it is not extremely early, it is still earlier than Yuuri needs to wake up. The warm air of the room feels almost too hot in contrast to the bitter Russian cold outside, but instead of turning the heater off, Viktor just takes off some of his heavier clothing.

Viktor pulls his coat from his body first, hanging it by the door. He sets the food and drink on the counter, removing it from the box to decorate a plate, reheating it as he brews tea. Then with the grace and stealth that only a ballerina can possess, he sneaks the tray of food into the bedroom.

The room is even warmer still, Yuuri and Makkachin are curled together in the fluffy duvet. The room is dim, the cloudy sky providing only the faintest of light. Carefully, quietly, Viktor places the meal down on Yuuri’s bedside table, moving his glasses and phone to make room. Yuuri remains still, his breathing soft, warm light trickling over his face in stripes from the closed blinds. Though it was his intent, Viktor now feels it would be criminal to wake someone so peacefully asleep. He wants so desperately to snuggle against the comforting warmth that is his fiance, and also would have, had it not been for a shaggy poodle stealing his side of the bed.

Instead, Viktor pulls open the thin paper packet, reading it from where he left off, though he recalls most of it from the talk he had at the adoption agency. They need to get the home ready, there are mountains of paperwork to fill out, background checks, they need to set a marriage date; everything they could possibly need to know, and hopefully just enough to bestill Yuuri’s fears.

He can’t say he quite understands the fear, nor quite why there was need to worry. They spent hours with children nearly every day, of all ages, too, and there is no issue there. It must be the unknown, and with this information, it will surely be more than enough to remove the frightening feeling of ignorance.

One of the first things they will need to do is make sure the house is safe for raising a child, as well as making sure he and Yuuri are both emotionally ready for the eventual home study. Both their criminal records are spotless, as they’ve devoted their lives to skating, so their background checks shouldn’t be too extraneous. All of this is easy. Or at least as easy as getting a passport or work visa. Both things Yuuri has done just this last year, in fact.

“...Viktor…” Yuuri mumbles in his sleep, taking Viktor’s attention away from the papers. He sets the packet down to the side of the tray and stands, planting a light kiss on Yuuri’s cheek before reaching to draw open the blinds. Yuuri sits up suddenly - and while he isn’t a morning person, he isn’t a terribly deep sleeper either.

From where Viktor is standing, he can see the bird’s nest that sleep has made of the back of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri presses the heels of his hands into his eyelids, rubbing against them with a sleepy grumble. Then, still half asleep, he reaches a hand out and places it on one of Makkachin’s legs.

“Viktor, you need to shave…” he mumbles.

“Over here, honey.” Viktor interjects, hiding a smile. Yuuri blinks towards the voice, squinting at the blob that is Viktor. He reaches up to Viktor’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“ _ You’re _ shaved at least, but you’re cold.” Yuuri objects. “What did you do, bathe in ice?”

“I went out and got you breakfast.” Viktor purrs. He rights himself by lifting the tray to balance on Yuuri’s lap, who smiles at it for a moment, before he reaches for his glasses.

“The food is warmer than you, too.” Yuuri smirks, placing his glasses on his nose. Viktor holds his breath, seeing a shift in Yuuri’s expression. He has noticed the papers, his expression giving no hints to whether it is a good or bad discovery. His fingers lift the packet, unfolding it and slowly reading. Viktor tells himself to wait for a reaction, watch to see what Yuuri thinks, but his mouth opens to speak his mind.

“It’s all you’d need to know about adoption.” Viktor quickly explains. “It seems like a lot, but it’s mostly just legal jargon, the rest is kind of a care list on how we can be prepared.” Yuuri furrows his brows, shaking his head. “I haven’t started the process, don’t worry. I just got some information for you.” Viktor doesn’t show his nerves, he rarely ever has from years of competition, but now he feels overwhelmingly worried. They hadn’t decided yet, not really, so this gesture may easily come off as too much.

Yuuri places his hand over Viktor’s, twining their fingers together as he looks over the papers. Every second is agonizing.

“Um… I can’t read Russian, hun.” Yuuri smiles shyly, his face vaguely pink. Viktor feels a wave of embarrassment too, laughing at his own stupid mistake, but internally wishing his brain could remember these small important details.

“Ah, right… I’m sorry.” Viktor sighes. Yuuri’s expression is warm as he pats a spot on the bed beside him.

“It’s okay!” Yuuri assures. He watches Viktor sit, steadying his tea. Their eyes meet, and something in Viktors expression must have showed his disappointment, as Yuuri quickly adds, “How about you read it to me while I eat.” brilliant as always.

“Well, do you want me too? I mean, I know it’s sudden… and you’re hesitant…” Viktor gives a small smile and Yuuri grips Viktor’s hand.

“If you don’t tell me now, I know you’ll tell me later,” Yuuri laughs. “Let’s just cut to the chase.”

“You’ve got me there,” Viktor chuckles. “Alright, I’ve got it.” He begins reading the script.

“One of the first things to consider doing is going to an adoption orientation,” Viktor begins in English, his translation quick and accurate. His words are warm and sincere, hopefully helping Yuuri feel at ease. He eats peacefully, but each word of the packet seems to carry the weight of his stress about the subject individually. “You will have to complete paperwork and a homestudy.” Viktor continues, many of the words getting lost along the way, and Yuuri is hardly able to tell what is actually being said, as he continues eating.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor’s fingers tap against the screen lovingly as he pastes in the link to one of many adoption blogs he's visited that day, before adding many little heart emojis after it and pressing send. Placing down his phone on his thigh to read through yet another article for Yuuri, he cleans the blades off for the next group of kids.

He knows that he can’t force Yuuri to change his mind, nor does he want to. He only wants to make sure that there isn’t fear involved, that Yuuri can make the choice based on his own desire and not on what doesn’t scare him. Yuuri loves kids, at the very least he thinks they are cute. Whenever they teach the group classes, he is always smiling and trying his best to make the kids smile too. Viktor knows that all Yuuri needs is to feel at ease, to see how simple the process is, that there isn’t any surprises or hidden dangers.

“That's it, you've got it!” Yuuri cheers, applauding from across the rink. Viktor stares lovingly at him from behind the barrier.

“Viktor, your student is here.” Yakov shouts from the locker room.

“Alright, I'll come get prepared in a minute.” Viktor mutters absently. Today is a Sunday, Viktor thinks, the day the orphanage brings their kids down for a field day, usually occurring once every third week. They never really had a scheduled time, normally calling ahead to make sure there was a class free that day, then showing up a half hour later. There had been a call already; hence him cleaning the skates, however, he’d much forgotten that he has other priorities.

“No, come now.” Yakov scolds. Viktor sighs, pushing away from the barrier. He collects the skates he’d been working on and walks into the front entrance. His student today, an older boy of about 17, walks up to him with a smile.

“I think I've gotten the Quad Spin down Mr. Nikiforov!” He says, confidently. Viktor clicks his tongue, slipping into the skate rental room to drop off the skates, then emerging again to comment.

“How many times have I told you to just call me Vitya, Mikhail?” Viktor asks, his voice coming off a little more stressed than he means for it to.

“I, I know that but,” Mikhail stammers. “That sounds more like the kind of name only Mr. Katsuki should be calling you by.” He flushes a little.

“‘Mr. Katsuki’ calls me Viktor,” he chuckles. “So you don't need to worry about that.”

“I guess…” Mikhail sounds apprehensive.

“Shall we start with our stretches?” Viktor diverts.

“Yes, Mr. Niki- Ah, um, Vi-Vitya.” Mikhail breathes nervously. Viktor claps him on the shoulder, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“You sound more like you're trying to swear for the first time, rather than just saying a name.”

“My family taught me only to call your elders by their last names, forgive me.” Mikhail sounds so sincere, it's actually kind of amusing.

“Never mind that, Mikhail, call me as you wish. But know the favor goes both ways, grasshopper.” Viktor begins guiding the boy in his stretches.

“Yes sir!” Mikhail calls, quickly moving into position, causing his, ‘just-a-bit-too-long’ brown bangs to dust over his pale eyes.

They go through his stretches before strapping on their skates and taking to the ice. Viktor lets Mikhail warm up a bit, supervising just in case he decides to do something out of his skill level - this kid being the student he'd refer to as his ‘ambitious’ kid - while he simultaneously checks his phone for messages on the sly.

Only one.

“This is sweet, but stressful. Can we have this conversation when we get home?” Viktor pouts at his phone for a moment. Is he being pushy? He doesn’t think so, they're only helpful facts, right? It isn’t like he is making him sign the papers, just to look it over as an option. What if Yuuri is simply humoring Viktor, and actually has no desire to think it over? Viktor sighs at the truth of it, as that is likely it. Yuuri is too polite, patient, and pretty for his own good, not liable to say what he’s thinking until it is the very right moment.

“Take your time.” he sends the message, but not before reading it over quickly and adding another dozen hearts as a chaser. No one could possibly be annoyed after seeing all those hearts.

Mikhail isn’t quite close to a full quad, his lanky body always getting in his way, a malady Viktor sympathises with. They run through some drills, dropping a few pieces of advice that are things Viktor used at Mikhail’s age, in order to get his last rotation in. Then off Mikhail goes, to try once more. Viktor crosses his arms, eyes following the young skater, though his mind wanders.

What else can he do? What more can he say to help his Beloved? The option of letting the whole thing go is seemingly more and more plausible by the day. He doesn’t want to, knowing that they together will be the best family ever. The only problem is Yuuri’s fear, that poisonous fear of the future he cannot foresee. How can Viktor combat that? How could he stop a force so strong?

A small crowd of excited little voices pulls him from his thoughts. Mikhail is in the middle of his program, his foot up by his head as he spins in place. Viktor turns to the sounds, feeling his heart swelling with warmth to see the orphanage group. Little eyes are peeking over the barrier to watch the performance, the children standing in the doorway, on the benches, and tiptoeing over the wall, all eyes fixed on Mikhail.

Viktor feels a small disappointment and guilt knowing the two lessons will overlap, - and realizing that Yuuri has a student booked as well - meaning the poor children will likely have to listen to Yakov’s drills for the next hour. There isn’t much he can do about it though, the orphanage group just has bad timing today.

“Hello, little ones,” the sweet tone of his talented fiance says, walking in from the locker room. “And how are we today?” the children turn to him, all in a wave of excited sounds, not so much talking clearly as an overwhelming chatter. Viktor can see Yuuri give a helpless but patient smile. Is his class over? Viktor kicks off, sliding towards the wall. When Yuuri doesn’t notice, he gives a quick whistle. Yuuri turns, and Viktor motions for him to come closer, leaning against the wall on his elbows and speaking just loud enough for Yuuri to hear.

“I have another half hour of my lesson. Can you handle them that long?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri shrugs.

“It’s no big deal, I’ll be fine. If I run into trouble, I’ll just ask Yakov.” Yuuri’s voice is calm, but he himself looks nervous. Viktor’s places his hand behind Yuuri’s neck, pressing their foreheads together.

“That’s my brave Yuuri.” Viktor praises. “You’ll do just fine.” Yuuri smiles a small smile, clearly embarrassed by the endearment, his Japanese sensibilities still shy to compliments. Viktor could kiss him here and now - that would really get Yuuri blushing - though he recalls his promise to be more discrete with the children watching, and Mikhail who must now be wondering what he’s doing. He’d have to save that kiss for later. He pushes off, returning to his student.

“Sorry about that, we’re sharing the ice in just a minute. So no falling today, yes?” Mikhail gives a small nod. “Perfect, now while we still have room, run that performance once more from the top.” Viktor claps, sending Mikhail off to his starting point.

From here Viktor can watch Yuuri corral the children into the locker room, then likely into the bathrooms, and at last to the skate rental shelves, all with little to no issues. While the kids are busy tying their laces, Yuuri sets up cones in hopes to build a wall between the two classes. Then, one by one, the little ones file onto the ice, shaky deer once more from the three week gap in practice.

“Alright kids, we are going to be extra careful of Mikhail and Coach Viktor okay?” Yuuri says sweetly.

“YES SIR!” the children reply. Viktor chuckles, these kids would get along well with Mikhail.

“Does anyone remember how to do the trick from last time?” Yuuri asks. Two little girls and one of the older boys raise their gloved hands.

“Oh wait, will we have to perform if we remember? Because if that's the case then I don't remember.” the boy takes it back.

“Ah, no, you don't have to demonstrate if you don't want to Dmitry,” Yuuri reassures. “Is there anyone who does?” the room goes quiet, all the children looking around as if asking silently amongst themselves who is going to volunteer.

“Yuuri, dear, why don't you demonstrate?” Viktor laughs from the corner. Yuuri directs a glare at him, sighing before giving a snarky retort.

“That's not how kids learn,  _ dear _ ,” then back to the kids. “If nobody will do it, I'll have to pick on someone.” Dmitry seemingly breaks under pressure.

“Okay fine I'll go!” he says with panic in his voice.

“You don't have to force yourself.” Yuuri begins.

“I'M GOING TO DO IT.” He shouts, skating - though it’s actually closer to stumbling - to the center of the rink.

“Alright, just be careful.” Yuuri ushers the other kids to sit on the bleachers, before gliding back onto the ice to supervise Dmitry’s Waltz Jump, making sure he doesn't fall and break his nose.

“Slow and steady Dmitry, don't forget your form!” Yuuri reminds him, soon realizing that he's probably just making the poor kid more anxious. Viktor smiles, watching as Yuuri effortlessly takes care of the children, wondering why he'd feel unsure of himself as a father.

Dmitry skates forwards, looking determinedly at his feet. However, both coaches can see before he even lands that he hasn’t made it, his skate slipping too far, so that it becomes unable to support his balance, and before he can even attempt a jump he falls on his butt, landing, thankfully, on the practice pads. No real harm is done to him, beyond his pride.

Viktor is about to skate instinctively to Dmitry’s side, but Yuuri beats him to the punch. The boy is on all fours, pushing himself to his feet, using Yuuri’s hand to steady himself.

“Very good!” Yuuri praises.

“He fell down! Don’t lie!” a small but angry voice calls from off the ice. They all turn to see the small Yuri glaring at them, his little arms tightly folded over his chest, little brows furrowed angrily. Viktor senses the trouble on the horizon, and can already tell Yuuri’s mind is starting to stumble over his Russian.

“It’s very good. We taught three things last time, balance a simple trick, and how to fall properly.” Yuuri turns a smile to Dmitry. “two out of three is quite good for such little practice.” Dmitry smiles, emotionally bouncing back the way only a child can.

“That’s not how skating works!” Yuri huffs. “You’re supposed to teach us how not to fall, not congratulating us when we do fall.” Vikor comes close to stepping in right about then, to help his boyfriend, - who is still processing the words - when the nanny does it for him, pressing her way through the children to grab Yuri’s dimpled little hand.

“That’s quite enough of that.” she scolds, Yuri shoots her a glare, pulling his hand free.

“This isn’t real skating!” Yuri spits, stepping back. The room is tense now, all the kids glaring at the blond child who’s throwing a tantrum. Viktor moves to skate towards the group, preparing to calm things down, when Yuuri once again beat him to it.

“Yuri, would you like to learn the Waltz Jump?” Yuuri sounds soft and kind, hiding all signs of anxiety and annoyance in his voice. Little Yuri sends him a deathly glare, his chubby cheeks puffing out in defiance. After a moment of pouting he shrugs, looking away. Yuuri, clever and wonderful Yuuri, skates to the door to extend a hand to the grumpy little blond. “Come along. I’ll teach you…” he pauses for effect. “Unless... you’re frightened.” the child's shaggy head whips towards Yuuri, looking angry as sin.

“I’M NOT SCARED OF ANYTHING!” Yuri hisses. He turns to the nanny, looking fierce. “I need skates!” Yuuri smiles a little smugly, proud of himself, but as always, humble and discreet about it. Viktor, however, is not so discrete in his pride; his smile broad, all but speeding over and leaping upon his Yuuri.

The moment passes, Yuuri inviting all of the kids back onto the ice. Only then does Viktor really recall his own student, standing where he’d been practicing, equally distracted by the commotion. Viktor claps his hands, turning to Mikhail.

“That is not a quad, Mikhail,” Vikor teases. The teenager stands at attention, turning back to his teacher.

“Right! Sorry!” Mikail apologizes, before backing up to gain speed for another attempt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor creeps into the dimly lit room, the only illumination coming from the red LCD glow of the clock lights reading, ‘8:32’. He shuffles quietly over to the bed, placing a bag down onto his bedside table and sneaking into the bed. He wraps his arms around Yuuri, taking in his scent with a deep breath. He hums upon exhale, lips brushing against Yuuri’s forehead as he speaks.

“Yuuri~” his voice lulls. “Wake up, hun.” Yuuri groans, burying his face into Viktor’s chest.

“I have something to show you.” He continues, trying to coax Yuuri awake. The adorable black mop of hair moves around slowly as Yuuri checks the clock.

“Too early.” Yuuri grumbles as he turns his face back into Viktor, eliciting a chuckle.

“ _ Yuu~ri _ ,” Viktor drawls. “Please come with me.” Yuuri makes another couple of grumbling noises. Viktor rolls his eyes, reaching over for the bag and pulling out a see-through plastic box, inside of which are breakfast sandwiches.

“Mm, smells good~” Yuuri murmurs beggingly.

“Not until you get up, dear.” Viktor presses. Yuuri huffs, saying something along the lines of ‘master manipulator’ under his breath, pushing himself out of bed by his elbows. He hops in place, rubbing his arms with his hands to generate heat.

“Okay, food, gimme.” Yuuri thrusts his hand out, waiting for the tin to be placed in it.

“I said come with me, not simply get out of bed.” Viktor follows after Yuuri, dodging and moving his arm out of the way as an evasive method to Yuuri trying to grab the sandwiches.

“You’re going to make me walk down the stairs, too?” Yuuri opens his mouth wide, feigning shock. “So cruel!”

“I try.” Viktor laughs. Yuuri pushes out his lower lip, pouting slightly, but follows Viktor to the door and down the hall anyway, pushing on his glasses and yawning widely.

“Any reason we’re up so early on a day off?” Yuuri sighs, but Vikor simply smiles, tugging him towards the stairs.

“Close your eyes, dear.” Viktor purrs into the back of Yuuri’s hand as he kisses it softly.

“Okay, now I’m concerned, what is going on?” Yuuri eyes Viktor suspiciously. Viktor reaches forward, covering Yuuri’s eyes.

“The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you’ll know!” Viktor enthuses. Yuuri doesn’t look convinced, but humors him anyway, covering his own eyes to be lead down the stairs.

“If you messed up the kitchen cooking again, Viktor, I swear to God…” Yuuri warns. Viktor remains eerily quiet for once, smiling as he guides Yuuri down the stairs and into the living room. His hand grips tightly onto Yuuri’s, his excitement enough that Yuuri feels it without having to look.

“Okay…” he breathes, walking close to Yuuri.  “Open your eyes.” Yuuri hesitates, at first trying to picture what could possibly be so important. Then, at last with a sigh, he opens his eyes, looking over their living room. He let’s out a soft gasp at what stands before him.

The room is dark, curtains drawn to block out the lazy morning sunbeams. Amongst the shadows, standing stark against the darkness, were tiny gold lights slowly blinking like cheerful fireflies in summer, dancing around gold and silver orbs, wrapped in and around the deep earthy green pine needles of a Christmas tree.

“Oh my God… You didn’t…” Yuuri breathes.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” Viktor cheers, dropping a kiss on Yuuri’s cheek. Viktor has never really gotten along with Christmas. It’s hard, growing up with such a big holiday matching your birthday, it sometimes even feels like you’re being put on a back burner the one day that is meant to be yours. As he got older, however, he found himself competing, and away from home during that holiday. Only then did he grow to have an understanding of it; not a love or even a like, more of a coexistence. He cannot deny the beauty of it, the memories of warm drinks, and the kindness people share.

“Were you up all night doing this?” Yuuri asks, giving Viktor wide eyes, a truly beautiful expression.

“I had the tree delivered last night to a neighbor, then when you were sleeping, he helped set it up.” which is extremely kind, considering Viktor has never set up a tree in his life. “I hope it looks right. I had to use a reference for what the tree is meant to look like.”  

“It looks perfect!” Yuuri gushes, throwing his arms around Viktor's neck. A sweet, overeager kiss is given to Viktor, as warm and bubbly as the man delivering it. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“There’s more!” Viktor beams, dragging Yuuri to the couch and sitting him down, the bag of breakfast placed in his lap. “Open it!” Vikor insists, sitting down on the coffee table in front of Yuuri, watching him intently - but as casually as he can possibly muster.

“I’m allowed to eat now?” Yuuri asks, a little puzzled by the gift.

“Look under that.” Viktor insists, relaxed and demure, but grinning like a child. Yuuri obeys, pulling the food, delicious and warm, out of the bag and looking underneath it. A smaller bag sits placently there, just waiting to be opened. Yuuri is suddenly struck with the realization that Viktor, not understanding quite how Christmas works, has neglected to wrap and place the unassuming gift under the tree.

“This bag looks like it’s from somewhere too expensive…” Yuuri ponders aloud.

“Am I not allowed to gift my fiance nice things?” Viktor cooes, using hand gestures to urge Yuuri further. Yuuri pulls the little bag from the first, and peels it open to reveal a small black box.

“How much packaging does this come in?” Yuuri asks incredulously, before flipping the box over in his hand to see a silver swan embossed over the word.

_ Swarovski. _

“Is it jewelry?” Yuuri wonders while sliding his thumb through the cardboard opening, slipping the lid open, and gasping at the crystal snowflake. “You bought jewelry for the tree, and not for me?” he pretends to be jealous, actually finding the gift touching.

_ “Oh, get him one of those yearly Christmas ornaments!”  _ Yuuri remembers Mila saying, and wonders if Viktor is somehow a mind reader. That or has just spent too much time with Mila, that’s the more likely scenario.

“I thought something made of crystals would look good draped from your neck, but when I was looking, nothing could stand up to your beauty.” Viktor laments. Yuuri snickers, leaning forward to jab an elbow into Viktor’s stomach playfully.

“This is gorgeous. It must have been expensive…” Yuuri picks up the cool glass in his hands, rolling it from one to the other, examining it front and back, and spotting a tiny silver tag strung through the silk loop. “Ah! It’s got the year on it-” Yuuri starts.

“A yearly Christmas ornament, we can make it a tradition.” Viktor winks. He really must have heard the idea from Mila.

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” Yuuri says, tears threatening him behind his lids. “I love you.” the words slip out suddenly, even taking himself by surprise. Viktor quietly stares at him a moment, before laughing breathily.

“I love you too,” Viktor leans in towards Yuuri, pressing their lips together momentarily. Yuuri gasps suddenly. “What is it?” Viktor asks.

“I’ll be right back!” Yuuri says, stumbling up the stairs, his socks not making the ride any easier. Viktor sits there, dumbfounded, before moving to sit on the warmth left in the couch by his lovely Yuuri.

“Alright, your turn to close your eyes!” Yuuri says from the entry, waiting to come into the room.

“Whatever you say.” Viktor chuckles, placing his palms over his eyes. Yuuri shuffles his socked feet in front of Viktor, looking at him with a knowing smile.

“Hold out your arms,” Yuuri demands, Viktor obeying immediately. Yuuri’s grin widens as he places the box on top of Viktor's anticipating palms. “Okay, open.”

Viktor’s silver lashes flutter open, looking down upon the gold, red, and green foil wrapping that encase the medium box, all topped of with a colorful ruffled bow that flowers out beautifully. Viktor looks up inquisitively at Yuuri, who's still smirking widely back down at him, looking as though he's so proud and sure of himself.

“What's this…?” Viktor doesn't understand, Yuuri has already arranged a date for them tonight via tickets to the ballet, that should be enough for both his birthday AND Christmas!

“Well,” Yuuri sucks in the word. “I’ve been thinking. It’s been a little overwhelming, I know you’re just trying to let me know everything I’ll need to before we adopt and all, however,” he exhales slowly, making his decision. “I trust you, with everything I am, and I trust that when the time comes, you’ll help me to be prepared. Now please, open the box ” Viktor nods, gently pulling the bow untied, ripping paper from cardboard, and lifting the tabs of the box open. His eyes become wide, and he takes a shaky breath.

“I was thinking… once we’ve gotten married and settled down a bit, I’ll be ready, and if not I’ll make myself ready.” Yuuri finishes as Viktor lifts the pure white leather boot of a small figure skate from the box. They are the children's skates from all that time ago.

“Yuuri you,” Viktor begins, but has to bite back as tears prickle behind his eyes. “You mean?” Yuuri just nods, simply and beautifully. Viktor’s mouth turns up into a wide grin. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps on grinning, and scoops Yuuri up into a big hug. It may not have been a clear commitment, it may not have been a definitive answer, but considering it’s coming from Yuuri Katsuki, this is all the confirmation Viktor needs.

“Oh!” Yuuri exclaims after a moment,  reaching around Viktor’s side to grab the crystal snowflake. “Let's add our newest ornament, shall we?” he steps towards the tree, bending back at the waist as if sizing it up, placing a quizzical hand across his mouth in thought.

“Put it near the gold sphere.” Viktor suggests.

“Most of these ornaments are gold spheres…” Yuuri reminds him.

“Right, but I meant specifically the one on the fiftieth branch from the top, twentieth from the right.” He jokes. Yuuri just dramatically rolls his eyes, before turning back to the tree and choosing a random gold sphere to hang the ornament near. Viktor places the skates on the coffee table in front of him, patting his lap as their eyes meet, gesturing for him to come sit.

“Yuuri~ let me give you a kiss,” Viktor calls, puckering his lips a bit. “Since it's my birthday, you shouldn't tease me or keep me waiting this time.” Yuuri gives Viktor a smooth, warm smile.

“Isn’t that the point though?” Yuuri hums softly. Viktor gives an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just give this extra sandwich to Makkachin.” Viktor laments, lifting the box of food from beside him. Yuuri gives a laugh, moving to Viktor’s side and seductively kneeling across Viktors lap. He places his fingers across Victor's chest, feeling his muscles through his shirt.

“Come now, is that really necessary?” As Yuuri speaks he moves his hands up Viktor’s chest and neck, tipping his chin up with a single dainty finger. He waits, smiling smugly on his perch, knowing exactly how impatient Viktor is, and purposefully making him wait because of it. It makes his heart race, his fingers itch to pull Yuuri in, but he waits patiently, until at last Yuuri’s soft lips are touching against his own, rewarding him for his patients. Viktor can not ask for a better spouse, a better lover, or a better friend, and there is nothing on this earth that can ever change his mind about that.

Viktor pulls him closer by the thighs, before reaching up to run his hands through Yuuri’s hair, whose eyes shut, feeling warm and content. The dim lighting of the Christmas tree, an item he’d never thought he’d own, brings a secluded feel to the room, as if it is just them. Viktor, and his gorgeous, soft, warm, kind, sweet, adorable, generous, understanding, compassionate, sexy,  _ perfect _ , Yuuri.  

Nothing can possibly make the day better.

Then a soft ring echoes from upstairs. At first they ignore it, too focused on each other to even really notice. The sound stops, then starts up again, with hardly enough time between it for a voice mail. Now, at last, it interrupts the pair.

“That’s Yakov’s ringtone.” Yuuri sighs, pulling away. Viktor, taken from his target, finds a place on Yuuri’s neck to nibble.

“It’s our day off. Call him back later.” Viktor breathes, hot against Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri pauses, a tremor being sent through his body, feeling a desperate and warm need, to the point of letting the ring end, before finally caving back into the kiss. It’s not long before another ring starts, this time from Viktor’s phone.

“Viktor, he never calls you, even after I don’t answer, unless it’s important.” Yuuri pleas. Viktor pulles Yuuri closer, sliding his hands up his back.

“Ignore it, he’s probably just locked out out the rink or something.” Viktor whispers against Yuuri’s ear, tone heavy and seductive. Yuuri hesitates, giving a small breath of appreciation, before pushing away.

“I can’t leave it, it’ll just distract me too much.” Yuuri decides, stepping off of Viktor’s lap - much to his fiance’s dismay - to make his way up to their bedroom. Viktor leans back, feeling robbed, before gathering their breakfast and dejectedly taking it to the kitchen. It’s hardly a moment after leaving that Yuuri comes rushing back down the steps, nearly falling on the last few, and then sliding into the kitchen on his socks.

“Viktor!” Yuuri pants, voice urgent, calling his attention immediately. “Have you seen Yuri?” Viktor blinks.

“I’m... looking at him?” Viktor is unsure what he could possibly be playing at, is it some sort of  game?

“No, Yuri Plisetsky,” Yuuri continues, eyes wide with horror. “He’s missing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can leave a comment here or reach out to us on [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/) if there's anything you want to talk about with Dear Yuri or just Yuri on Ice in general. Seriously, don't be a stranger, we love hearing your feedback!


	5. Mother Hen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we break your heart, with exactly what you were all waiting for, you're welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[T]: Because teens are the only ones who can handle this crippling angst
> 
> Y'all might want a cookie

A cold wind washes over the young toddler, who's clutching close to his chest a worn leather wallet. He stands cold and alone, unsure of where he is or even where he should be. He has gone for help, but found himself the one in need of it. Eventually, strangers notice him, taking him somewhere warm. 

“Where are your parents?” they sound so strange, so young, nothing like his grandfather. “Whose wallet is that?” The child clutches it closer, closing his eyes and curling into a ball.

He’s not sure where his grandfather is, he can't even remember where his house is, only that one minute grandpa is on his feet, and the next he's unmoving on the ground. He has learned two things at his young age; one, that when grandpa falls he needs help to get back up, and two, the wallet is full of magic paper that can gain him access to anything, even and  _ especially _ help for grandpa.

Taking the wallet, he goes outside. Around sunset people find him, taking the wallet and asking him countless questions he can't remember; he can’t focus until the wallet is returned to his chubby fingers. He tries to explain what happened, but has hardly mastered  _ walking  _ that year, his speech still being very patchy. He has no idea what happens with grandpa next, as the only thing he knows next is that he has a new ‘home’.

He assumes his grandfather got lost, or is maybe at work now. All he knows is that they place Yuri in the ‘orphanage’, because he, like the other kids, has no parents. It is fitting, and very realistic, understandably a plan his grandfather would make, since he worried about Yuri being home alone all the time. He doesn't know when he’ll be collected, when he’ll go home, but the one thing he is sure of is that this place is only temporary.

Yuri does decide that he's not really very happy here. The older boys like to tease him, calling him a girl, and the girls think his hair is pretty; both of which being valid reasons to take a pair of scissors to it, clipping the long golden strands to what he assumes is an acceptable length. However, somehow he gets lectured and banned from scissors. Unfairly lectured, as even when he tries to explain his reasoning behind the trim, he gets no apology. It isn't fair! Grandpa wouldn't have been mad! He would have understood easily, but no, here he gets lectured. Lectured again and again and again. He endures several years of it.

“Don't say that” or “watch your manners”, regardless, he hears an ear full of it. “Don't pull that face.” and “apologize.” Even if he tries to explain why he is breaking rules - with very valid reasons mind you - he would still be lectured for hours! And sometimes, he would even get scolded when he didn't do anything at all, he could just be standing there, minding his own business, when BAM “Yuri! What are you doing out of class?”

No, Yuri decides he doesn't like this place at all, too many stupid rules. There were nice people, of course, but they just have far too many rules! Don't they know he's just a boy? “boys will be boys” grandpa has always said, and Yuri thinks this is a very fair and valid reasoning!

There's a woman by the name of Nanny, she's ‘new’, the headmaster had said. She comes with lots of picture frames that have her name on them. She is nice, pretty, and best of all, no lectures. Well, okay, no unfair lectures. She is always patient, not just to him, the other kids like her too. But she gave  _ him _ a stuffed animal. A tiger with a zipper under his chin, and straps to keep him on Yuuri’s back. She tells Yuri to use the bag to store away special things, things that are important, so he fills it with what he thinks is the most important thing in the world; piroshkis from his dinner. He cannot understand how this gained a proper scolding, because he is only doing as he is told, it honestly started feeling like clockwork! Yuri isn't a bad kid, not at all! Yet every adult treats him as such! Every step he takes, he feels like it will cause another lecture.

Yuri hates adults, well, most adults. He doesn’t mind Nanny, and grandpa, of course. Even if Nanny had a bad habit of pinching his ears, and she still scolds him, she at least tried to be comforting when he was being rowdy. Other adults, however, are all the same; do one thing wrong, and then suddenly everything you do is under suspicion.

But, adults hate Yuri back. They’re nice now and then, making sure he’s alive, but no one really cares about him, they only care about their own stupid rules and lives. He’s put to the side, seemingly less important than the older kids, and even when the parents came to adopt him, they would say no in the end. He ’isn’t what they expected,’ but they shouldn’t expect anything more from him! He isn’t a bad kid. Or, at least, he didn’t think so. He is a good, smart kid.

“Put on your gloves and hats kids, we’re going out for the day.” Nanny chirps. The kids that are old enough to go are all gathering their warmer clothes, filling the room with loud chatter and excitement. Yuri doesn’t move, because he is playing with tiger and his toy knight. He doesn’t have time to go, the knight and the tiger are just about to slay the dragon together! Besides, he reasoned, he is too young to go. He has been too young for about a year now, even though he would be turning 6 in a few months, and five was the accepted age for field trips; and above all else, the trips were  _ always _ lame.

The zoo has no tigers, he is too short for all the rides at the carnival, and the movies they went to are always stupid. He decides that whatever this field trip is, he will have no part in it.

“Yuri, put your coat on, we’re going to be late.”

“I’m too young.” He pouts, preparing one of his signature tantrums.

“No one is too young this time, the workmen need the house to be empty. You can bring your toys.” Nanny compromises.

“No.” Yuri stymies.

“You might not be going, but tiger is.” Nanny states. Yuri watches her through his fringe as he tries to determine how serious she is. She is  _ very _ serious.

Yuri feels annoyed and angry, why couldn’t he stay behind? He whines, sitting in the snow, folding his arms and refusing to budge. “If you don’t take me home right now, I’m never moving,” he gets carried from there. Why did he have to go?! “They can work around me!” he yowls, as he’s strapped into the car. He will not stand for this, folding his arms and looking out the window. “I’m never leaving the car!” his booster seat is pulled from the car, unbuckled, and then he is dumped indignantly onto the sidewalk. He folds his arms once again, and sits there, glaring angrily at all the kids staring at him. “Go away!” He spits, being lifted and carried through the parking lot. Unfair!

“Welcome Miss Huss, I’m glad you could make it.” A large balding man says. He looks like the type who will yell at small children. Yuri, decides to behave well.

“Thank you, I’m sorry we’re running late.” Nanny apologizes, placing Yuri on the ground. The other kids are looking around the room, wide eyes of excitement for the new adventure. Yuri pins himself behind Nanny; strangers can never be trusted.

“That’s quite alright, some of our instructors were running late as well.” Yuri looks back at the doors, wondering if he can make it to the orphanage by walking. Nanny moves away, but Yuri snatches her hand, staying close, eyeing the old man cautiously.

“I’ll make sure they’re here, give me a moment.” He wanders off.

“Why do we need instructors?” Yuri pipes up.

“We are going skating.” Nanny sighs. “And no, you cannot go home. We’re already here, you’ll just have to wait until it’s over.” Yuri puffs his cheeks, about to argue, when the stern old man comes back.

“I’ll show you to them.” He states. Nanny corrals the kids into the next room, following after the man. They are left now with a smug looking old man with a young face, and a dumb looking foreigner. Yuri glares them both down, wondering what kind of idiots devote their lives learning to slide around on ice. Before they can find out, Mischa, of course, has to go to the bathroom.

“Hey,” that foreigner is talking to Nanny, probably hitting on her like everyone else. Yuri turns to see, but no, he’s crouched down to Yuri’s level, looking at him with warm brown eyes. “Are you ready to skate?” he smells strange, looks strange, and talks strange. Yuri resorts to hiding, instead of answering. The man gave a smile. “Ah, what a good girl she’s being, not talking to strangers.” Yuri doesn’t think, lunging forward at the man, the one thing in the world that pissed him off most is being called a girl!

“I’M A BOY!” Yuri knew he should have stayed home! He was always being teased about his hair! Everyone hates him!

“Yuri, be nice!” Nanny, of course, scolds him.

“My name is Yuuri too!” The man’s name is ‘Yuri’ too?! This is too much! How dare he!

“That’s confusing!” Yuri is just speaking his mind, but everyone begins talking over him. “Just leave! Then there won’t be two Yuris!” He shouts, feeling overwhelmed. Of course, this makes Nanny mad, though.

“Is there a problem?” The childish old man says. Yes there is! Yuri wanted to scream at them both!

“Ah, uh, nothing important.” The foreigner dismisses. Of course it’s not to you! Selfish idiots, all of them! The old man is leaning down to talk to Yuri, but he doesn’t listen, tugging instead on Nanny’s arm.

“I don’t want to skate anymore.” Yuri announces. It doesn’t matter, the old man tries to convince him to try.  _ I don’t want to! Shut up! _

“I will sit with Nanny, you two are creeps!” That would do it, for sure this man would get mad at that, he’d force Yuri to skate just to prove a point. They always think that’s best, all of them a bunch of pigheaded idiots!

“Will that be okay with you?” Yuri blinks. The old man is talking to Nanny.

“I don’t mind.” Nanny sighs. What is going on? Then the old man bends down to Yuri, looking him in the eyes.

“I’ll allow it if you,” he turns to the foreigner. “ _ Both _ , apologize.” there has to be some trick, some reason this man is being polite. He can’t possibly be willing to change his mind for an apology. Plus, Yuri won’t apologize if the foreigner won’t; and he wouldn’t, adults never apologize.

“I’m sorry.” Yuri is shocked. He didn’t… did he? He was bent bowing to Yuri. He has no idea how to react, no one ever cared what he thought, no one let him choose… but these two… they gave him the option to say no. It had to be a trick, it wasn’t possible that they would let him off with just an apology, watch, he’d say sorry and then they’d trick him into joining in!

“Sorry.” Yuri pouts, but feels a smirk on the inside. Just wait.

“Alright, that’s settled!” The old man claps, giving Yuri a smile, then he was gone. Yuri wasn’t forced to do anything!

He watches the pair closely, trying to understand their game. There has to be something, there always is. They smile too much, make sure to help with the other kids and keep everyone in line, never yelling, or even scolding. They all slid around, falling on their butts and faces, but the pair would calmly help them back up, instead of scolding them for falling. Idiots.

Dmitry sassed them as always, he is such a trouble maker, but suddenly, all the kids are off the ice because of what he said. Yuri tells himself that he doesn’t care, that he won’t look. The foreigner skates forward, going faster and faster, he looked steady and smooth, not like the shaky kids. No; he knew what he was doing. Suddenly his skates fly, like  _ six _ feet off the ice, as he spins faster than a top! He lands, and the ice  _ explodes, _ sending ice chips everywhere! Then he glides effortlessly back, raising his head to look at the children, suddenly meeting Yuri’s gaze.

 

 

* * *

 

“Everyone put your hats and gloves on. It’s time for the field trip.” Nanny calls, causing the room to go into chaos, as all the children gather their belongings. For once, the front of the line is Yuri. There isn’t anything in the world that would stop him from going, he can’t say why exactly, but for once, he doesn’t hate the grown ups, and he was going to find out why!

He watches for the foreigner now, determined that it must be that trick he did, nothing else could possibly be so interesting to him. He spotts the old man on the ice and felt at ease. Why though?

The foreigner shows up, guiding them through the routine without the old man. “Will you be skating this time?” his name is Yuuri, Yuri remembers. He wants to skate! But realizes he can't go back now, not with his pride on the line.

“No!” Yuri hisses. The older Yuuri smiles warmly, in spite of Yuri’s aggression.

“That's fine, I hope it's not too boring for you here on your own.” Yuuri says.

“I have tiger…” Yuri mumbles.

“Ah! I see, and he’ll keep you  _ and _ the nanny safe too. That's good!” Yuuri beams.

“He's very brave...” Yuri agrees, smiling in spite of himself.

“Just like you?” Yuuri beams.

“Yeah!” Yuri exclaims, and Yuuri nods.

“Then I’ll leave you three alone, okay?”

“Yes!” and Yuuri smiles, walking the other kids onto the ice. Why is he so nice? He couldn't always be this way! He has to get mad at some point, now for example! Dmitry just fell on his butt! That is surely scold worthy!

“Good job!” Good job?

“He fell, don’t lie!” Yuri can’t even believe this! There’s no way someone this nice exists! If Yuri gets mad enough, he’s sure to be scolded.

“We taught three things last time, two out of three is just fine!” Yuuri smiles at Dmitry, and the fool accepts that sad excuse, just like that!

“That’s not how skating works, you’re supposed teach us how not to fall!” Yuri is beside himself with anger, and on top of that, Nanny gets mad at him! “But this isn’t real skating!”

“Yuri, would  _ you _ like to learn the Waltz Jump?” Yuuri’s voice is so soft, why is his voice so soft? Yuri lids his eyes, and puffs out his cheeks, then shrugs. Yuuri comes up to the wall that separates the ice from the floor. “Come on, I’ll teach you!” Yuuri is holding out his hand. Nobody has ever offered a hand to Yuri since grandpa, what is he supposed to do about this? “Unless you’re afraid.” That does it! He has to be kidding himself.

“I’M NOT AFRAID!” Yuri shouts. He would do better than anyone! He would be a better skater than the famous Yuuri Cats-a-key! He steps onto the ice, repeating that fancy flip in his mind, now all he needs to do is not fall!

He falls. Okay, so maybe that will take some practice. BUT HE WILL DO IT! He practices going from one end of the ice, to the other, trying to make sure Yuuri sees. He is going to beat this man’s socks off, on his first few minutes on the ice!

He fell.

It is so slippy, and his feet are on metal stilts! Who's idea was this? It makes no sense! He lifts a leg in attempt to stay upright, and he doesn't fall. Haha! He pushes himself forward, lifting his leg as he moves, he could make that jump, and he would beat that idiot!

“Time to go everyone!” Nanny calls. NO! He was so close!

“I don't want to  _ go _ .” Yuri roars, and once again, he is carried away against his will. He's never allowed to be happy, or to have fun, or to do anything! It's so unfair!

“Can we go skating today?” Yuri asks Nanny the next day.

“Not today.”

“When can we go skating?” Yuri asks a week later.

“We’ll go in a week.”

“But the ice will be melted by then!” Yuri complains.

“Yuri, you’re Russian. You know ice doesn’t melt here.” Nanny would retort with her logic, unfair!

“Since it's Christmas, can we go skating?” Yuri begs.

“Yuri, we go once a month, and that's not changing! Stop asking and open your present.” Yuri glares at the headmaster, then down at the present in his hands.

Yuri hates adults.

“Bathroom!” Yuri shouts, getting up and taking his present with him. He’s going skating today whether they like it or not! He runs to his bed instead of the bathroom, and those fools fall for his trick so easily. He grabs tiger, tucking the present box into his mouth, because tiger is supposed to eat his important things. Yuri also shoves in grandpa’s wallet, his toothbrush, and the extra piroshki he hid under his pillow from last week’s dinner.

Now Yuri can face the world! He has everything he needs. They had only made so many turns in the car, it can’t be that far!

 

 

* * *

 

Dimpled hands clutch - white knuckled - onto tiger, and he grips one of it’s ears between clenched teeth. Tears stream down Yuri’s cherub face, and he doesn’t know what to do. Many people are here now, their faces frighteningly unfamiliar, all speaking in words Yuri cannot hear over his panic. Where is he right now? Will anyone find him? Is he going to die?

“Are you okay sweetie?” a nice looking woman asks him, and, “Where are your parents?” another worries.

Yuri just shakes his head. “No parents…” as he doesn’t know what else to say.

“No parents?” a shocked woman asks, “You just don’t know where they are, right?” a man attempts at reassuring the crowd, “Do you belong to an orphanage around here?” Just one question after another, ones that Yuri doesn’t know how to answer as everyone begins saying them faster than he can comprehend.

“I don’t know,” Yuri cries, “I don’t know.” And then, a voice pulls him from his anxiety; a familiar, wonderful, warm, and worried voice, cutting through the crowd.

“Yuri!”

Yuri’s tears start falling more violently, he knows that voice!

“Yuuuuri!” The voice continues, cracking against panic and worry.

Yuri pushes through the group, dodging the people trying to grab him along the way - that are trying to keep him from getting himself more lost - but it’s okay, because he’s found, he knows that voice!

“Yuuri!” Yuri sobs, and just as Yuuri’s head whips around, the blond mop is pressed against his legs, arms wrapped so tightly around him that Yuuri almost trips, but he doesn’t care! Oh how he doesn’t care, Yuri is safe! Soon Yuri feels warm arms reaching around him, his feet being lifted off the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri says into blond hair, nuzzling the top of Yuri’s head. “I’m so, so, sorry.” He doesn’t know why, but Yuuri almost feels responsible somehow. Yuri just sobs more, relief of the stress and everything he had bottled up - in order come off as brave - start overflowing all at once. He buries his face into Yuuri’s chest, the reassuring sound of a heartbeat and the warmth and his soft scarf, and just all of it, is comforting.

“Oh good, are you his father?” One of the worried women from before inquired. Yuuri feels his eyes get slightly wider, his breath faltering, his heart swelling. The word sounds so nice. Then a smile creeps over his face, thumb reaching for speed dial.

“Coach,” Yuuri corrects, lifting the phone to his ear, the ringing cutting off instantaneously.

“Yuuri, did you find him? Where are you?” Viktor’s worried voice comes from across the line.

“I’m at the station by-” Yuuri begins.

“Wait, I can hear you echoing,” Viktor interrupts, and Yuuri hears it too, searching around for his fiance. “I see you!” Viktor nearly shouts, and Yuuri catches sight of him as he turns the corner.

“Oh, Viktor,” Yuuri calls, stuffing his phone into his pocket and rushing over to him, Yuri still bundled in his arms. The two collide, gently, Yuri wedged between them as though they are trying to protect him from the world. Yuuri’s knees buckle, the stress dissipating from his entire being after feeling the safe, and warm, and familiar embrace. The three fall to the ground, and they are a mess, a wonderful, beautiful mess, a bundle of relief and tears, and oh, Yuri is safe! “We found him,” Yuuri says, his breath almost a laugh, then, as he presses lips into the top of Yuri’s soft little head; “We’ve found  _ you _ .”

“Don’t make me go back.” Yuri sobs, arms still flung around Yuuri, face still buried into his chest. Yuuri looks at Viktor, and Viktor looks back at Yuuri. They nod to each other, and stand, Viktor brings out his phone to call Yakov. Yuuri exhales heavily, watching Viktor as he grabs Yuuri’s free hand with his own, intertwining their fingers, gold rings gliding against each other.

“We’ve found him. Yes. We will bring him back to our house. Yeah. He won’t let go of Yuuri, you’ll probably have to pick him up and pry them apart.” Viktor utters between pauses. With one final hum of confirmation, he puts his phone away, directing a warm smile back at Yuuri.

“Let’s go home.” Yuuri says, and Viktor nods.

Yuri doesn’t know what to think of the flat at first, everything is so clean and smells like  _ them _ . It’s comfortable, it feels safe, and yet it’s unfamiliar; nothing like grandpa’s, but in a way, just as warm and inviting.

“Yuri, do you want something to eat?” Yuuri asks warmly. Yuri pulls one of tiger’s straps from his shoulder, finally freeing his short arms.

“I have food!” He exclaims, opening tiger’s mouth to pull out his piroshki. The couple eye the moldy food warily.

“Um, no.” Viktor says. Yuuri jabs him in the ribs. Hearing the excitement, Makkachin comes bounding over to them.

“WHAT IS THAT MONSTER!” Yuri shouts, diving behind Viktor’s legs, dropping the bread from his hands in shock. Makkachin’s ears perk, sniffing the food, then swallowing it whole. “THE MONSTER ATE MY FOOD!” Yuri cries.

“Makkachin, what are you doing?” Viktor exclaims, running to grab the dog and get him to spit out the piroshki, worried about him getting sick. “Drop that right now!” But Makkachin bolts, getting away like only a dog who has done something it knows is wrong can, Viktor chasing tail.

“If you could eat anything else right now, what would it be?” Yuuri asks, exasperated, rolling his eyes and turning away from the commotion.

“Cookies!” Yuri shouts, knowing full well he won’t get them. Nanny never gives him cookies, telling him they are unhealthy.

“Sure,” Yuuri’s smile extents almost ear to ear, “I think we still have some dough,” then Yuuri directs his voice to Viktor in the… Well, wherever he’s managed to end up - likely cornering Makkachin in the mud room. “Viktor dear, can you stop chasing the dog and bake some of the cookies from yesterday? I am sure he’s already swallowed it.” Baked goods are the one thing Viktor can make well.

“Monster…” Yuri is suddenly reminded. “I’ll get you back.” He continues whispering under his breath.

“Yeah, does Yuri want the chocolate chip or the snickerdoodles?” Viktor asks cheerfully from the other room.

“Really?” Yuri asks.

“Of course!” Yuuri grins, showing teeth.

“Chocolate!” Yuri hops a little in excitement.

“Noted!” Viktor calls, and then to Yuuri, “And snickerdoodles for you, yeah, hun?”

“Why are you even asking if you’re planning on making them both anyway?” Yuuri laughs. “Hey, Yuri, why don’t we go and sit on the couch?”

“We are eating on the couch?” Yuri asks in disbelief, and his shock grows as he watches Yuuri turn on the TV. “And watching TV?”

“Yeah?” Yuuri cocks a curious brow at Yuri. “Are we breaking rules we should be keeping secret from you?”

“No!” Yuri quickly protests. “I want to watch TV, and eat chocolate cookies on the couch!” It’s like a dream come true!

It seems so amazing that Yuri is caught completely off guard when the doorbell goes off, and Nanny is there to pick him up about an hour later.

“I don’t wanna go!” Yuri runs and hides behind Yuuri’s legs. “I know, they’ll just adopt me!” He decides, suddenly.

“Yuri, that’s not how this works.” Nanny says, gesturing for him to come.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri bows his head. “I hope we didn’t spoil him too much.”

“As am I.” Viktor joins his polite fiance in the mannerism he’s picked up. Yuri folds his arms, sitting on the floor, refusing to budge, but Nanny scoops him up - used to his antics - and carries him away under her arm like a football. No one in the room wanted Yuri to leave, but most knowing there wasn’t anything they could do about it in that moment.

Upon returning to the orphanage, Yuri begins wishing he had made friends before. He wants to tell someone who wouldn’t scold him about how being adopted must feel like, the way their flat felt just like home, though he had never stepped foot in there before. Instead, he keeps these thoughts to himself, just wondering if it’s bad for him to wish to really be their son.

 

 

* * *

 

The couple lay in their bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to notice how very quiet their house suddenly felt, as if there is something missing. Some _ one _ that they never really realized they missed, or even thought about missing until for a moment, at last, that person was in their arms. And now, well...

“Viktor,” Yuuri inhales, keeping his eventual exhale as controlled as he can. “A woman asked me if I was Yuri’s father today.”

“Oh yeah?” Viktor asks.

“I liked how it sounded,” Yuuri smiles warmly. “I am feeling better about adopting.” Yuuri admits, finally. Viktor grins.

“I told you that you’d make a great father.” Viktor gloats, taking Yuuri's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. They hold each other’s gazes for several minutes, just enjoying the other’s presence and company. Then, slowly, Yuuri’s face contorts into realization, eyes widening and mouth turning down, before his jaw drops. Viktor is about to laugh, to make up some snarky remark, as he tries to imagine what could possibly have caused such a wonderful expression. However, it doesn’t take much thinking before he remembers exactly what day it is. Without hesitation, the couple speaks in perfect unison.

“The Nutcracker!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In memory of a dear friend.
> 
> Hi, this is Mr. Beans, the mysterious co-writer of Dear Yuri. These past few weeks have been so amazing thanks to all of you. I really did not expect this kind of reaction when I got on board with this fic, but it's genuinely the most amazing thing how much you guys liked this. 3000 hits and 300 kudos in like 2 weeks? On my first fic? That's crazytown! So thank you so, so much! From both me, and Kei. We really appreciate all of you! Thank you for loving Dear Yuri as much as we do. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my good friend, who filled my childhood, and many other children's lives with the love and friendship all of us need. -Mr. Beans
> 
> It may sound like it, but not to worry, this is not a goodbye, Beans is just corny. We mostly wanted to say thanks, really, thank you all for such positive feedback! Sorry this chapter came out sounding a little depressing, it may be simultaneously the best and worst thing we have ever written together. Chapter 6 should be up by next week, and we are likely going to begin weekly updates from here on out.
> 
> We'd love if you'd like to reach out to us on our joint [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Sweeter Than Socks, and Possibly Better Than Dad's Old Skates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, we needed a chapter to brush over the general adoption process and relay info about time and the like. But we thought to ourselves, "Who wants to read boring adoption exposition from the perspective of stressed adults?" And started mulling over what we could do to make it an interesting narrative, and yet retain the light hearted and fluffy tone. While trying to solve this problem we went through many options, I got very busy and Beans ended up writing somewhere in the sky between Colorado and Rhode Island. While letting Beans take the reigns for this chapter, I expected I would end up doing a lot of damage control.
> 
> But what I didn't expect.
> 
> Was 16 pages and 8,000 words of entirely unadulterated dog.
> 
> SO! Enjoy the Makkachin POV nobody asked for, as courtesy of our lovely Mr. Beans.
> 
> Okay, so I briefly edited this, please forgive them for any occurrences of misspelling, grammar, and screwed up tenses. Otherwise, please enjoy! It actually is quite plot relevant, believe it or not. (Just be warned, Makkachin has a lot to say)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[G]: Literally pure dog. (Not to be mistaken as, "filler", because it has quite a bit of important plot points we needed to get out. It's just... Dog.)

Today is a cold morning, well it's cold a lot of the time, but this morning is particularly quite cold. I curl up tighter, covering my nose to try and fend off the chill, but no, simply too cold to fall back asleep. I lumber over to the nearest window to pout out over the white blankets covering everything. I don’t so much hate the stuff, as wish it would come at a warmer time. 

“Snow” is fun, running around, watching it disappear on my nose, how I could dash through it and have it part around me in waves! Or stand on it and it would hold my weight, solid as ice. I also really like watching the little white bugs who make the snow, the goofy way they flutter in the sky. That is so funny to watch, their bodies so small that they whoosh away in the wind without any sort of control. I could watch them for hours just spinning and dancing around in the air! It’s even better outside too, looking up and seeing millions and trillions of them softly floating to earth, trying to catch them but never quite making it. Though I have never caught those puffy snow bugs, I could swear I’d caught one once, but I tasted nothing except cold water, so I must be mistaken. One day, little bugs, just you wait… one day.

I snort a small puff of heat against the glass, turning from the cold world to begin a search for someplace warm to curl up. The dryer is silent to my dismay, oven as well. I give a small huff of disapproval at this predicament. Warm things should always be on in such frigid times! Someone might freeze.

“Or starve!” I declare, sniffing my bowl.

These things of course mean dad is still asleep, that or playing with Yuuri. They always seem to be doing one or the other. Sleeping or playing. I don’t mind one bit though, as these are my two favorite activities in the whole world, of course I want my two favorite people to participate in them. That and eating. Oh right food! I should go remind them it’s time for breakfast.

Food sounds so divine about now. I wonder what the Yuuri will make? He’s always conjuring up something or another, and if I was lucky dad would sneak me a bit after they ate. Last night we had fish and noodles covered in peanut butter. I wasn’t allowed a lot, dad said it might make me sick, though I’m not sure how. Food doesn’t make you sick…  _ sick _ happens for no reason. Food does nothing wrong. For example if I eat say sausage and eggs leftover from breakfast today, or maybe pancakes, or perhaps leftovers, all that will happen is my tummy getting full. Ah, I can’t sit still just thinking about it!

The door is open just a sliver, allowing me to push myself in, looking over my family sleeping in their warm bed, covered in their nice warm blankets. I wanted to leap up and join them snuggling the day away as we all napped. That was a good idea! But I knew dad wouldn’t like that. He loved me, but I knew that bed was for him and his Yuuri. I was allowed up when I was called. Which is only fair. Dad is in charge, and I love him, so I'll be good.

The two are snuggled in the center, mostly. Dad’s foot, peeking out a little off the end, and Yuuri’s toes are very near the same fate. Their feet look the same, callus and a little smelly but I’d know dad’s foot anywhere! First of all it’s bare, with no sock in sight, and second it smells almost as good as his skates, which I am not allowed to sniff anymore because dad hid them. He said it would make me sick. But like, it’s animal hide and sweat! It’s not like I’m going to eat the metal parts! I tried that already and nearly broke a tooth, the rest of the boot  won't get me sick at all.

I’m not allowed to jump on the bed… however, this foot right here isn’t on the bed, and tastes almost like those nice black leather loafers dad also hid. I’ll be careful, he won't even notice me. Besides, dad likes his feet to be clean, and I love cleaning his feet! How could he possibly object?

As if timed, Dad gives a sharp breath, pulling his foot under the covers, and muttering something. Oh good! He woke up all on his own! I scamper over to his side, placing my paws on the bed. This doesn’t count as “on the bed” see, I know the rules. Then I lean to the back of his head sniffing his hair, and licking his ear. I love being scratched behind the ear, and so I try to repay the favor whenever I could manage. His hand reaches up patting my head before turning an eye to the clock on the table. Oh please let it be food time. My tail is wagging just thinking about it!

“Makkachin, it’s too early.” He says. My ears droop, a bit, but I know that he would be awake soon anyway, so all I have to do was wait. And while I waited… I nuzzled his hand panting softly. His fingers reached around my ears and scratched me sleepily. Aw, he loves me too!

“I love you!” I bark. He smiles patting the bed. Oh my gosh! I love the bed! He knows that! I jumped up by his feet, walking up to his face to thank him for his kindness. Licking his face, head, and hands, my tail all over the place. Dad’s Yuuri blinks up at me, so I give him kisses too.

“Makkachin.” He mumbles my name, pushing my muzzle away but smiling. He scoots over letting me have room to sit between them. I love him so much! He’s such a good man, always thoughtful of me, and smells so nice! He also is a little shorter, so if I want to I can jump up and lick his face whenever, and he doesn’t get mad me for it!

Yuuri moves his head back into the pillow, I know I’d sleep too if it was too early. It’s not too early for me, but he can sleep a little bit more if he wants, Dad will pat me. He’s got his little tv now, which means I can curl up on his lap and sleep. That little tv is great, sometimes he’ll sit for hours staring at it, one hand absently patting my head as he watches it, while I sleep undisturbed.

I place my paws on his lap, dropping down to rest myself there, his hand reaching down to scratch so thoughtfully behind my ears. How nice of him. His tv Is silent at the moment, as he slides his finger across it. I hope he enjoys whatever it is he does on that thing as much as I enjoy sleeping on his lap while he uses it. He presses it to his ear sometimes, while other times he taps on it. He smiles sometimes, which is a good thing. I know because he only smiles at good things, like me, food, and his Yuuri. Today however it’s not a smile, more like a quiet sleepy contemplation.

“They say there is a lot to be done, even if Yuri wants to be adopted.” I try to listen to everything he says, though most of the time I don’t quite understand it. I’ve picked up a few words, but a great deal still elude me. Adoption was one of them. Dad keeps saying it now a days though, so I assume it's something important. “We have a lot to do before we can be considered.” I yawned as subtly as can, but miss part of what he says because of it. “Should I set an appointment for a consultation?” that was a question.

“Yes!” I bark. I always say yes, it gets me in trouble sometimes, especially since I really don't know what I'm agreeing to, but I can't help it, I’m an optimist.

“Hmm?” Yuuri hums. Dad rolls his eyes and leans over to touch his lips to Yuuri’s ear. He’s whispering, but I can hear the words.

“I’m talking to you, my sleeping beauty.” His voice is different for Yuuri, more velvety and deep. I like the sound, but it would scare me if he spoke to me that way. It’s almost dangerous, like he’s planning something. Not my thing, but it makes Yuuri smile, so it’s not my business. I currently need to re-seat myself, as Dad has rolled into a new position.

“About what?” Yuuri Hums. Maybe if I lay on Yuuri’s hip I can sleep and get pats, since he’s already half asleep anyway. Also he is more cushioned than dad, who feels very firm and warm. Yuuri however is plush and soft. I place my head on him, closing my eyes.

“Yuri. They emailed me back this morning. They want to talk things over in person.” Dad says. Yuuri rolls over, knocking me off his leg. Oh darn, now I am out of two beds. Hm. I sat up, looking over my options.

“When?” Yuuri stretches, clearing off a nice little spot by his head. Pillows are tricky territory, but if you get one, they are heavenly! Dad fills the space though, resting his elbow there, his head balanced on his hand, as he looks down at Yuuri.

“I think we can make it later today, I only have Irina at 9, then Artur at noon. What about you?” Dad lists. I remember the sound ‘Irina’, I met her when Dad took me to the ice some time ago. She gave me lots of pats, and some of her sandwich, so I love her.

“Um…” Yuuri’s hand blindly slaps the table a few times, knocking down his glasses and almost a water bottle, till he found his little TV. While he looks at that, I decided it would be awfully nice of me to get his glasses. After all, it is rather cold and he doesn't have enough fur to retain heat, hence all these blankets.

I leap from the bed, sniffing around for them, finding instead a nice smelling sock from underneath. And a candy wrapper. I was so hungry! But I couldn’t eat those. No, I had to be good. Dad says wrappers will make me sick, though I’m sure he eats them too when I’m not watching.

“I have a new student at 1, and… that's as late as I go.” Yuuri reads from his TV. I lept up by their feet, walking up to Yuuri’s pillow and dropping his glasses.

“I didn’t eat any wrappers, don’t worry.” I woof. Yuuri picks up his glasses looking them over, then reaching over to pat my head.

“Thank you Makkachin, I love my glasses to be drenched in drool.” He chuckles.

“ME TOO!” I answer, my tail thumping. Yuuri is always praising me, cause he's the nicest human ever. Dad reaches over hugging me close and petting me in that amazing full face pat, telling me I was a good boy. I bump my head against him, placing my paws on his chest and licking him. It is always a happy time with these too!

“I’ll call them and set it up then.” Dad has a laugh in his voice, pulling me closer and rubbing my back. Yuuri gives a vague agreement sound, nodding. Dad stopped his amazing pats to look over at Yuuri, I did too. He looked sad I think, frowning a bit. Dad takes Yuuri’s hand bringing it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. That was nice… But I think Yuuri looked more like a ‘needs lots of kisses’ kind of sad. Since dad isn’t gunna, it was my responsibility. I leap forward to cover his face in more kisses.

I think it worked. Yuuri laughs, holding my face to halt my assault, taking me into a hug. Dad is laughing as well, but I think it may have had something to do with my tail fwacking his face. Oops.

“What he said.” Dad laughed, leaning down to kiss Yuuri. I would be upset at his theft at my idea, but next thing I knew dad was off the bed walking to the door! Maybe oh maybe that means breakfast!

It is a normal day in our little home. The couple shower while I lick clean my fur. Yuuri makes breakfast while I keenly observe, in case something should go wrong and they helpless would require my rescue. I get an egg and pancake for my service. Then, after a fulfilling breakfast, the three of us go for a walk.

I love walks! Though dad always seems too slow in winter, insisting on pulling Yuuri close and together walking at a snail's pace. I understand the issue, they're not completely aware of the wonderful world of smells that surround them. They don't sniff things like I do, so they don't know that if we hurry we can smell each and every single smell, no problem!

Then comes the saddest part of the day, when dad hangs up my leash, pulling his skates out of the closet and leans down to bonk our heads together. “Be good.” He always says. And though I know he is helpless without me, and may very well be killed out there alone, I love him and trust he will come back. I sit by the door listening for their feet to fade away down the hall. I sigh, walking to my bed to play with my best friend. A soft toy who lost his squeaky voice when I was just a pup. He would never leave me, and he was a gift from dad so when I feel sad I pick him up and remember that even though he leaves me, my dad loves me.

If I didn't have such a packed schedule I would find more time to be depressed, but I have work to do! First of all there are dirty socks under the bed, which means no one else has claimed them. One for me, and one for my friend! It is perfect.

The whole house is full of little secrets if you look. The bathroom is normally pretty clean, smelling like dad's shaving bubbles and body spray, but sometimes you can find shoes to lick, or socks to eat in there. I sniff around the couch, really just the best place for food, finding a handful of crumbs and pop corn. I have already cleaned the kitchen, but I can't help noticing the ever so slight scent of food on the counter. If Yuuri was around I wouldn't have dared, but I pushed myself on my hind legs, propping my paws on the counter in search of the smell. I score myself a few tomato seeds, and a slice of red pepper.

At last I trot upstairs, now retrieving my socks and eating the candy wrapper, taking my finds down to my bed and sharing one with my friend, chewing the other thoughtfully. Ah yes, salty socks with a hint of sweat and leather, cotton weave or perhaps silk. Either way, it is a good find.

It gets to be very quiet during the day, just me and my Friend. But as the house protector, it is my job to always be on alert, even if everything seems at peace. Recently the house had a strange invasion. A medium sized tree filling just the far corner of the room, though the entire room smelled like pine. Trees indoors is a very strange concept for me. It smells nice and looks pretty, but it is an intruder, and as long as it is here I don't trust it. I look it over, sizing up the tree, walking around a few times sniffing it, before sticking my face in to check for pesky critters. It is empty. I listen carefully just in case, and hear nothing. Good! Nothing has moved since yesterday. I give the tree a snort before sauntering to my sock and picking up where I left off. In the few days it was in the home, I had yet to find any squirrels, no matter how many times I checked a day… but I wouldn't give up, that's what they were hoping I’d do. Well tough luck critters, I have laser focus and a dogged determination to protect my family.

You may have guessed I am in charge of two things, cleaning up and protecting the house. It is in my blood somewhere, not sure where, but I am a proud breed! I can feel it in my bones! Should a threat arise, it is my job to fight it! Dad has a lot of strangers following him, and camera people too, or something, so I was always on duty. I’ve never had to kill anyone yet, but I totally could! If provoked.

I hear then the front door start to open, and I leap up from my nap, tearing through the living room to bark at the door, letting them know I was here and that I had permission to kill. It was a false alarm though. Just Mila, my friend who came every day to console me when dad was gone. She gave me treats and sometimes took me to see dad at the ice. I love her.

She rubs my belly, shakes my paw, and tells me to spin, and all in exchange for a treat. She is super nice, petting my head and calling me a good boy. Why I’d almost think it was my name, I was told that so much!

She likes long walks, same as me. And she doesn't have a Yuuri to slow her down, though sometimes she is on her tv and I have to wait. Annoying, but to be fair she waits for me when I have to sniff something.

We stop at the park, jogging around it a few times to keep us fit and young. I love the park! It is not always active in the cold times, but days like today it is packed with happy kids! Kids are the best! They're like, at least as good as old socks. Not quite as high up as dad's old skates, but they're up there.

Kid all smell so different and unique, that you could spend hours sniffing them all, and they give you food, and sometimes their faces tasted like sweets. Just all around a good time! If I could, I would tell Mila to let me play with the children, but she didn't quite understand me, not like dad or Yuuri. Instead she takes me around one last time, then leads me to the gates where she stops to check her phone, breathing heavily from our jog. I look back at the kids one last time, wanting to play too. From here I notice a sulking little bundle of coats playing with a stuffed toy cat all by himself. He looks awfully familiar… I couldn't place why though. He has hair the color of straw, and a familiar sort of face. Hm.

I have to think about this. How many children do I know? There are the few ones I met that dad taught, Irina, Try-that-again, From-the-top, Artur, and Mikhail. ‘Try-that-again’, Irina, and Mikhail are too old, and I never actually saw, ‘From the top’, so is it Artur? Mila hangs up my leash, putting out lunch and telling me to ‘have a good day’, and then left me alone to think. Once I wasn't focused so much on food I remember Artur is not straw haired, I realized. Well then, who on earth was that child?

I was in the middle of my daily dig through of the dirty laundry, when it suddenly hit me! That was the kid who came here! He gave me food! I loved him! My tail wags at the memory, with pride from figuring it out, and excitement to go check my theory. I bound to the door barking for Mila to come back and take me to the park! I have to thank the boy for the food! It was delicious and I wanted more if he had any!

Mila doesn't hear me. And I can't open doors on my own. I huff myself over to the window, looking for her out there. Gone there too. Fine, then I’ll wait till dad comes home then HE can take me to the park. I slump into my bed, pouting about the missed opportunity. The smell of shredded sock reminds me that I have unfinished work to do.

Dad doesn't understand when I come bounding to the door. His smile soft, patting me gently.

“We gotta go to the park! We gotta go before he leaves!” I insist. Dad's smile fades as he put his fingers to his lips.

“Hush, nows not the time.” I stopped. Why wasn't it the time? Maybe Yuuri had the right time? I turned to him, and saw why it wasn't time. Yuuri doesn't look okay, soft tears rolled down his chin. Dad stood, taking Yuuri in his arms, now telling him to ‘hush’, patting his back and cradling his head.

“It's okay…” Dad’s voice is soft and sweet. “We’ll figure it out.” he hums.

“Viktor, did you see his face?” Yuuri speaks calmly, but sounds distraught. “He was so heartbroken….”

“They should have been less blunt with him, he's just a child.” Dad sighs.

“If only we had gotten married last year.” Yuuri’s voice cracks, his fists gripping Dad’s shoulders tightly. Dad returns the embrace, crushing him close.

“Don't say that! We didn't know last year! We didn't start talking until last month. How could we know?”

“Yuri was crying Viktor… How can we possibly make a 5 year old wait 7 years!” Yuuri buries his face in dad's coat, sobbing softly. Dad’s hand pats his back, trying to comfort, but looking like he could cry too. I realize now is not the time to pester them about meeting the boy at the park. I don't know why they are upset, and I hoped it wasn't because they knew I ate that sock…

I sit back, watching them for a moment, before running to my bed, picking up my friend and walking it over to them. Yuuri is sitting at the kitchen table now, while dad goes through the cabinets. Yuuri holds a crumpled tissue and is wiping his face, his nose pink and eyes swollen. I place my friend in his lap looking into his eyes, and willing his sadness to go away.

Yuuri picked up the little doll, the toy dad gave me one day, it smelled like him and looked like me. He was my friend, and though he never talked, he would always make me feel better, so maybe he could do the same for Yuuri. Yuuri smiled down at me, half laughing, half sobbing.

“Thank you Makkachin.” Yuuri scratches behind my ears, I put my head in his lap, closing my eyes and focusing on happy things for Yuuri. I gotta make him feel better no matter what was making him sad now, I would share my happy thoughts with him till he was smiling again.

Dad put a cup in front of Yuuri, patting my head as he kneels beside me, looking into Yuuri’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Dad sighs. Yuuri took the cup in his hands, a breath of air falling shakily from his lungs.

“It's not your fault.”

“I shouldn't have gotten your hopes up.” Dad rests his head on the table, he smiles but it is an empty smile. “In all my research I forgot to see how long the process takes.”

“It's just… ah.” Yuuri waves his hands, looking like he lacked words.

“I wish Yuri could understand.” Dad laments

“He was so heart broken...” Yuuri sniffed, pulling his tea close.

“What did she say? Don't love a child before you are clear to have one?” Dad forces a laugh, burying his face in his arms. “I’m sorry….” They become silent, the atmosphere turning depressing, and hopeless. I feel like howling, but I couldn't make things worse. I had to make them feel better! Yuuri reaches across the table to run his hands through dad's silver hair. It is quiet, still and sad. I can't help but wish for once I spoke in their language, so that I can let them know they meant the world to me, that no matter what happens I still loved them.

“What do we do?” Yuuri mourns, his hand running across my fur. I think about the question, running the sounds through my head. What indeed. If I could make him dinner I would, but I don't know how to open the fridge, or for that matter any of the other steps that cooking entails. I was debating on giving him the torn up sock as well, when suddenly dad spoke up.

“We should probably get married,” dad tells the table. I lift my head from Yuuri's lap, sniffing the air, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

“It'll still be a long time before we can adopt, there is so much paperwork to be done.” Yuuri sighs.

“It's a start though…” Dad lifts his head. “It may be that in the time it take us to be approved, Yuri finds a new home, and different parents... that’s just how it will have to be.” He takes Yuuri’s hand. “But they did say two  _ to  _ seven. Two is a good number! If we hurry we might get lucky.” Yuuri looks unconvinced. Dad notices the expression, walking on his knees to Yuuri’s side.

“Marry me?” Dad exclaims, holding Yuuri's hand close, his eyes sparking with a light I knew well. Things are always exciting when he gets that look.

“I mean I plan to, but… We’d have to have a service in Russia for your family. Then in Japan for mine. We don't have that kind of time, Viktor.” Yuuri points out.

“You’re right. We’d have to elope.” Dad purrs the word, my ears perking at the sound. What is that? What is Elope? I turn to Yuuri, who looks ready to argue opening his mouth, then closing it with a click. Yuuri gives a small, wry smile, taking Viktor's hands with both of his.

“Somehow I knew marrying you wouldn’t be traditional.” They hold each other's hands for a moment, Dad is holding his breath as Yuuri thought. It is a very tense ten seconds, I thought I died three times waiting!  But finally Yuuri shakes his head, shrugging. “Why not?” Dad leaps up at Yuuri, pulling him into a hug. I don't know what Elope means, but it sounds like so much fun! I leap up for joy too! I hope Eloping means a second dinner! Nothing else can possibly make anyone this excited!

“When should we go?” Dad asks.

“After dinner.” I barked reasonably. We can’t go hunting Elopes on an empty stomach. I place my paws on dad’s thigh, turning to Yuuri, waiting for him to back me up.

“When do you want to go?” Yuuri teases. I look back to dad.

“Right now, but we can wait if you like.” Dad is good at pretending, but I can see he is just as impatent as me.

“Then we should hurry, they close at 5 right?” Yuuri chuckles, lifting dad’s chin. WE’RE GOING! I leap up, running to the front door, praying they would take me along! I want to elope too! It sounds like a lot of fun, or a lot of delicious! I’m not sure which, but I want to find out.

I wait there for a moment, thumping my tail on the front hall carpet, then remembering that they are slow sometimes and decided to remind them to get a move on. I find them on the floor, Yuuri sitting in Viktors lap, kissing each other and muttering ‘I love you’s.’

Although I am happy they aren't crying anymore, I know that when these two started they took hours to stop. And dog gone, I wanted to see an Elope! After a few tugs on Dad's sleeve they relented, getting to their feet at last. Yuuri disappearing upstairs, saying something about papers, while dad turns to the front door, pulling out his tv and typing fast.

I dash to the front door, sliding on the carpet a bit, looking up at him and panting furiously. “Pleeeease take me too! Please!” I whimper. I give him my best begs, lifting my paw to shake and even spinning to make him see I am a good dog and to pleeeeease take me too! Dad notices me, beaming down and patting my head. I jump for joy when I hear my leash click on my collar.

“We’ll need a best man.” He laughs. That is me! I am the best man! I can do that. I leap up, kissing Dad's face, thanking him for inviting me to see the Elope. He pushes me down, with a laugh.

“We also need bridesmaids, a flower bearer, a ring bearer, a priest, family and friends, but a best man will pass.” Yuuri chuckles, tapping an envelope of papers on dad's head. I was about to leap onto him too, he needs thank you kisses also, but the door opens and I forget, whizzing out into the hall. We are going outside! I can hardly wait! I bound down the hallway, stopping when I realize they were still in the doorway. WHAT IS THE HOLD UP? Don't they know there is a wild elope out there? And we  _ need _ to hurry? They are kissing... again. Oh cats.

I whine, walking in place impatiently, reminding them we gotta go!

“Don’t forget your keys hon.” Yuuri hums, pushing dad away, and bending down to pick up my leash. Finally!

We go downstairs, piling into the car and I jump in the back until Yuuri sits down, then I leap to the front, sitting happily in his lap. Yuuri gives the ‘you know better than to sit up here’ look, but thankfully says nothing, gently patting my head as the car roars to life.

Elope isn't that far off, only a few minutes in the car. I had worried I wouldn’t know it when I saw it, but there is no reason to worry. The car pulls to a stop, letting us out with a chirp. I turn to follow dad, and my jaw drops. Before me stands a gigantic building made of red and white bricks, with a million shimmering windows. It is so big that I can’t see all of it, even when looking up! We walk in through brightly lit doors, under what looks like a gilded arch  grander than life. If this isn't an Elope, I have never seen one! Well I haven't ever seen one… but my guess is that  _ this _ is an Elope.

It all feels very fancy, so many lights, and clean lines. I’d say feels like this may have been a ‘no dogs’ building, but it can't be, not if I am allowed in. That or maybe it is no dogs, but they all know that I am a very, VERY, good boy, and the ‘best man’ to boot, whatever that is. Regardless, I don't want to wait in the car, so I hold my head high and proud, trying to live up to my titles.

What happens next in Elope is just what you’d expect in such a big building. We wait in a line, then Dad speaks to a gentleman behind a desk who directed us to a lady behind a desk. The lady smells like flowers, but looks like Lilia; very stirn and no nonsense. Her hair is in a tight bun, wearing her make-up a little too harsh. I get on my best behavior, hoping she isn't like a Lilia, and likes dogs.

They trade papers back and forth, dad speaks quick and clear, while Yuuri answers slow and precise. I scan around Elope, wondering where they keep the food. There are a few other people at desks, others waiting in line to stand at a desk. No other dogs though. I don’t smell any dog’s either. I must be the first dog ever to see an Elope.

I walk around the perimeter of my leash, sniffing the table and floor, and am rewarded by finding a small red candy someone has abandoned underneath the desk. I try and squeeze my head under. Finding I am not small enough, no matter, I am a dog, and dogs can do anything they put their minds to.

“Makkachin.” Yuuri warns, tugging on my leash, just as my tongue barely touched the candy. I pull back, sitting up and giving him an innocent expression. He didn’t buy it though, and shortened my leash. Holding it close to his legs with one hand, his free hand grips dad's like his life depends on it. He looks nervous, I realized that he might be worried I’d get kicked out of Elope. I guess eating candy when no one else has any is pretty bad behavior. I’d forgotten I needed to be extra good, Yuuri is so thoughtful. I gave his hand a lick then laid by his feet. I find that you can’t get into trouble if you're sleeping.  

My ears perk at the sound of dad’s soft laughter. “Just a bit bored, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He is obviously talking about Yuuri, because after all, when in the mood I am a vicious killing machine. I close my eyes again trying not to think about the candy, instead focusing on dinner. “He’s our best man.” I wag my tail, now he is talking about me! He loves me.

“Oh, how cute.” The woman who likes dogs so can't be Lilia laughs. People who like dogs can’t be too stirn even if they look it. “was he at the wedding too?”

“We haven't had one yet. We’ll have ceremonies when we have the time.” Dad explains.

“Why are you getting your papers first?” she asks. “If you don’t mind my prying.”

“It’s fine to ask. We’re getting our documents together so we can adopt a child.”  Dad says that word again, the one he is saying a lot lately. It is harder to understand than Elope, which I now know meant overrated and boring, like the airport, and shoe shopping. He keeps saying it though as if it means something, It sounds like a game, or maybe like an expensive coat. Apparently it has to do with children. Hmm, further deduction is needed.

“How sweet.” Not Lilia cooes. Also everyone thinks adoption is a good thing, which doesn't mean much since they also think Elope is a good place.

I miss most of the end part of the conversation, the yawning and napping making it hard to listen. They trade papers again, then Yuuri gives a whistle, which means it was time to vamoose! We get to dad’s car, and before even opening the door they stopped. I didn’t have to look to know they were either kissing or hugging, I just scratch my ear, looking over the Elope as I tried to decipher what an Adoption is. Something good, and something to do with kids. Maybe it is another word for park.

The day came to an end, we had dinner, I watched from my vantage point just in case someone were to maybe have a catastrophic spill that requires cleaning. I don’t beg, if I did I wouldn’t get anything, so I just waited till dad filled my bowl, slipping secret leftovers in when Yuuri wasn’t looking, and a little more than usual! He must be in a pretty good mood then!

Next is couch time, where dad and Yuuri sit and talk, I normally join them, sleeping on their feet or between them on the couch. Tonight they seem to mostly forget I was there, whispering about something or another, but I don’t mind, it was a long day. I curl up on my bed in the corner, finding my friend had made his way back to bed while we were out. I get up, walking in circles for a minute, patting down the bedding to the perfect consistency before curling up and resting my chin on my paws, passing out after a long day.

 

 

* * *

 

Next morning went as usual, breakfast, walk, abandonment. Normal, normal. Since it had been so busy before I’d almost forgotten about the boy at the park. Somewhere between tasting the tree and deciding that if it tasted like this then it was probably not that bad of an intruder, I suddenly remembered. I could barely wait for my afternoon walk! I wanted to see the park! I had to see if the nice boy was there! When the door opened I dashed to it, super ready for what other treats might be found in his secret food tiger. 

“Good afternoon, Makkachin!” Mila laughs, taking my head and rubbing it all over. Oh, she is so nice and I love her! I leap up, licking her face, then offering my paw abs rolling over and spinning as quickly as possible, even before she asked so we could go before the kids were gone! She laughs “Well aren’t we eager.”

“Yes! Free food is at stake!” I woof. She pats me once. “Mm, steak” I chuff.

“Okay, okay, don’t go on the carpet.” She clicks my leash, and I was out the door like a dog looking for food! Dragging her behind me. When we arrive at the park, to my surprise it is empty. My heart sank. I missed them… or they just hadn’t come today. Phooie. All this way, and for nothing. I’d have to wait till tomorrow.

It is really quiet when the playground is empty. No laughter or screaming, no kids playing. I don't like quiet, it makes me sad and lonely, and I don't have my friend to make me happy. Mila doesn’t notice, just jogging our normal rounds again and again. I sigh, listening to the quiet and wishing it wasn’t. A gust of wind brings the smell of snow, so there is that at least. Maybe I can catch some snow bugs.

A sneeze caught my attention. At first I think the snow bugs are making noises, but it came from behind me when the snow bugs smelled like they were in front. A second little sneeze proves me right, it is a child sneeze, not a bug. I scan the park, focusing on every tree and every bush. Then I saw them! The booted shoe of a little foot sitting against a tree! I may have got over excited... pulling so hard on my leash that Mila, who was checking her TV, didn’t have time to pull me back. I bound forward, leaping over obstacles until at last I could see to whom the shoe belonged!

Green eyes blink up at me, looking surprised, suddenly jumping up to grab his toy and pin himself to the tree. I bet he has more food in there! I sniff the boy from head to toe, inspecting his every inch till a hand gripped my collar, pulling me back sharply.

“Makkachin, behave! Are you okay? Don't worry, he’s very harmless, just escaped for a minute. I’m so sorry.” The boy doesn’t answer, wiping his sleeve across his face. I stop, resisting and letting her sit me down, looking over the boy. Something is different about him today. He seems… sad. “He won’t bother you again.” Mila continues, looking around the abandoned park. “Where’s your mother?” The boy buries his cherub face in his scarf, looking stubbornly at the ground. I think he is crying, oh no, Mila is saying bad things!

“Is… Is that Yuuri and Viktor’s dog?” He mumbles. Hey! I know those names! It is the right boy! I wag my tail, looking to Mila.

“Yes?” Mila asks. The little boy clings to his tiger, hugging it to his little body. He thinks for a minute, before standing as tall as he could, looking like he meant business.

“I have a very important meeting with them.” The blond says. Oh he does mean business! He looks like he has very important things to do, with no time for dilly dallying! He isn’t dressed like any businessman I've ever met, but he must be if he says words like ‘important’ and ’meeting’. Mila nods slowly.

“And where do you plan to meet them?” Mila asks. The boy looks a little frustrated, probably because he is running late for his business meeting.

“I was told to meet at their home but I forgot my directions in my office. Don’t suppose you could lead me?” He puffs out his chest smartly. Mila lets out a soft hum. The boy folds his arms, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Call them if you don’t believe me.” He sounds so official!

“Are you sure you’re parents aren’t around?” Mila asks once more. The boy scoffs, turning and walking away! Mila! You scared him! He’s my friend! You can’t just do that! I love him! Mila realizes her mistake, calling to him. “Fine!” she called. “Come on, you’ll freeze out here alone.” The boy turns back, looking relieved, gripping his tiger in his little gloved hands.

We walk back home, the three of us. I notice the boy is a little slow, so I make sure to stay by his side. He may be a businessman, but little people tend to get lost on their own. So I help him cross the streets, and make sure he turns at all the right places. We make it back home safe and sound because of all my precautions.

“Do you need food?” Mila asks. The boy shakes his head. I do! I need lunch! I told her so. She walks over to the cabinet with my food. “I can make you a sandwich, they won’t be home for a couple hours.”

“I’m fine.” The boy pouts. I wonder if I could have his sandwich.

“What was your name?” Mila has my dish in her hands, the food was almost inside it! If she just tilts her hand a tiiiny bit!

“Yuri.” he answers quickly as if he didn’t have time to waste on small talk. He really must be a businessman!

Then AT LAST Mila finishes filling my bowl, placing it on my rubber tablecloth so I can finally eat! I eat as quickly as possible, before anyone else can even think about stealing my food. No one has ever taken my food before, and I’d like to keep it that way. I was eating too loudly to really tell what was going on, but when I looked up from my bowl, Yuri had a glass of milk and Mila is in the living room talking softly.

I walk to where Yuri sat, giving him a sniff. He gives me a glare, so I sit back, licking my muzzle. He smells like milk and dirt, two of some of my top favorite smells. He waves his hand at me.

“Go away,  monster.” He hisses. I tilt my head. Who is ‘monster’? Not me. Or I don't think so, I am not familiar with the term, maybe it is the breed of dog I am? Though I’m reasonably sure I am a ‘doodle’. He sticks his tongue out at me. I copy him, panting slightly, wagging my tail. I didn’t understand, but I knew it must be a game.

“I have to go… but Viktor said it is okay to leave you here…” Mila says, looking skeptical. I get to my feet, walking over to her and hoping for a pat or maybe a treat. “He also said you can eat anything you like. And to  _ please _ do so.” Mila kneels, patting my head and smiling. “You watch your little brother, okay?” I agree, though I didn’t know he was my brother, I will watch him just the same. Yuri gives a huff in response. I escort Mila to the door, she looks towards the kitchen one last time, and then leaves.

With her gone, I leap to my new friend! I rarely have anyone over during the day, I didn’t know what to do. Yuri sat, kicking his short legs, drinking milk as he looks around the kitchen. If he is my brother, I would need to make sure he has plenty to do. I look up at him. giving him a pleasant “Hello” woof. He jumps a little, his ‘wide eyed wonder’ turning back to annoyance.

“What do you want?” he is an angry little guy, isn’t he? Hm. I run to my bed, picking up my friend and bringing it to Yuri, placing it to sit on the the chair next to him, sitting back proudly. My friend can fix ANY problem, I think he must know black magic. Yuri glares at it, picking it up and throwing it across the room. “Go away.” Wow! He HAS to be my brother! How else does he know that I LOVE playing fetch! I bound after my friend, picking it up from the rather short distance Yuri’s tiny arm could pitch it. Turning around quickly, my paws lost their grip as I skid on the kitchen tiles, I plop it back on his chair, this time standing at the ready for when he threw it again.

“You’re annoying.” He pouts, but I can tell he liked the game too. He threw it again after all!

We played fetch till he ran out of milk. He tries to get more himself, putting his cup on the floor and lifting the heavy jug with both hands, pouring it into his cup, but also on the floor. See, this is why I’m here, he doesn’t know how to clean that up, so I do it for him! After all, he is just a child and my brother! I gotta watch out for him.

He does end up making himself a sandwich, which I helped with. Three slices of bread, one of which I had to taste test, some deli meats, I check a few cuts before allowing him to put them on his sandwich, and a slice or four of cheese, which at this point he is chucking across the room so that he can finish making his sandwich without my input.

He toddles his meal to the table, placing it there with his glass of milk. Closing the fridge like a good boy, but leaving just about everything on the floor. It’s okay, cleaning up is my job!

He couldn’t quite finish his sandwich, which is understandable, I have eaten so much leftovers just now that I couldn’t finish his sandwich either. We moved to the TV room, where Yuri tries to figure out the remotes. I never quite understand the concept of tv myself, so I leave the figuring that out to him. I pick up my friend from the kitchen, and sniff all the packages just in case I forgot a morsel, before I walk back. Yuri sorta figured it out, and sat on the couch clicking buttons. I watch him for a minute, noticing he had pulled his coat off onto the floor. Yuri seems to notice my gaze, and glares.

“I don’t want to play.” he pouts. Me neither, I had a big lunch, and I normally slept after lunch. I put my paw on the couch, asking for permission to join him. He narrows his eyes at me. “Go away, Monster.” There is that word was again, there are too many words I don’t know. After a staring contest, he looks away, then scoots over to give me room. I love my brother!

Yuri doesn’t let me onto his lap, instead letting me curl up beside him and placing his hand on my fur every now and then, looking at the tv the whole time. I close my eyes, letting myself fall asleep. My brother is really cool, I think, even if he looks nothing like me. He smells nice, shars his food, and lets me sit on the couch. All things that mean he loves me, so I love him back.

It’s a little strange thing to think about, he’s a human, and I’m a dog. And though I’m older than him, we are both friends. It’s good. Very good. His little hand rests on my back, his shoulder slowly slumping over, his breathing becoming gentle, eyes flickering open, trying to stay awake, until at last he lets out soft and slow breaths. I like this. This is why I like kids, kids are always good boys. Yuri is a good boy.

As I drift off I thought of that word dad keeps using. ‘Adoption’. I can’t say I know what that exactly means, but I’ve decided this feeling must be it. This, curled up on a couch with your brother who you just met, sleeping off a heavy lunch while the TV talks softly in the background. This is Adoption. I can see why dad keeps talking about it, it’s warm, soft, and wonderful. Sweeter than socks, maybe even better than old skates.

I wonder if we can adopt Yuri again tomorrow.

 

  
  


* * *

 

Viktor and Yuuri come home to an open bread bag, empty wrappers of cheese and deli meats, the milk jug spoiled on the floor, dirty paw prints joining them. There are also sticky hand prints, and a glass of spoiled milk, and a half eaten sandwich on the table, and finally a slice of cheese is stuck to the wall across the room. They walk in to see Yuri and Makkachin curled up on the couch, the tv playing the news. Yuuri turns to Viktor.

“Are you  _ crazy _ sure you want a kid?” Yuuri asks, eyes wide with half horror and half endearment.

Viktor grins, pulling Yuuri close at the waist.

“Yes.” He beams simply. Yuuri looks over the scene, leaning his head on Viktor's shoulder, then sighs as his eyes rest upon the lumps on the couch.

“Yeah, me too.” the corners of his mouth pull up against his will, a new emotion blooming in his chest and causing moisture to prickle behind his eyelids. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry we toyed with the POV a bit the past couple chapters, we will get into an normal rhythm in the upcoming ones. We hope you all have a wonderful day and will forgive us for making you wait a week... for this...
> 
> [UPDATE]: Wow, so many of you guys loved this chapter! Since I need a clever way to introduce our [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/) anyway, I guess I'll just say thank you all so so much, and you're welcome to come chat about how Makkachin is such a good boy with us.


	7. I Dreamt I Held You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *[T]: For the only three uses of Hell, and also traumatizing sadness and I hate you Beans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! Aren't you just so glad we actually posted on time this week? Instead of 2am Kei's time and 4am Beans' time on Sunday? (P.s. yes we do have a deadline but we still miss it every week regardless)
> 
> Okay, so the title may or may not have derived from a verse in You Are My Sunshine, you're welcome, because now that song is in your head and this chapter is multitudes more sad, enjoy.

Quiet fills the small space, buildings passing by in a muted blur. Young eyes look out upon the speeding world, pretending his cheeks don’t have tears, that he doesn’t feel upset. He isn’t the only one looking and feeling heavy hearted, the adults feel the same, but they can deal with it in a guarded emotion that only comes with age. Of the passengers, only one truly seems blissfully oblivious. Makkachin’s tail wags, the soft thump of it against leather being the only sound in the car.

“Yuri.” Yuuri clears his throat, watching the red traffic light, wringing his hands. Yuri’s expression hardens, his hands gripping Makkachin’s fur like an anchor. “You can’t keep running away from home.” Yuuri begins.

“I’m not running _away_ from it.” Yuri growls, his voice sounding like a mix between crying and royally pissed off.  “I’m running _to_ it.” The words are knives in Yuuri and Viktor’s hearts.

“Yuri... “ Viktor breathes, but Yuuri cuts him off with a hand against his knee.

“This is the fifth time this week… You can’t keep running away, it’s dangerous. You need to stay in the orphanage-”

“I don’t want to.”  Yuri sniffs, rubbing his hand across his nose, then replacing it in Makkachin’s fur.

“It’s not... “ Yuuri bites his lip, turning to his fian- _husband._ Viktor’s eyes flit briefly from the road, before he gives a shrug. “We’re not your parents.” Yuuri finally relents.

“I don’t care.” Yuri’s hand tugs Makkachin’s fur so tight that it wakes the dog, who lifts his head, giving a yawn.

“You _need_ to care!” Yuuri turns to the child who is blatantly ignoring him. “What if you get hurt, or kidnapped? What if you get lost forever?” Yuuri’s voice is stirn, his expression hard, but his heart hurts. The car comes to a stop, the engine following suit. Viktor stares ahead at the - by now - familiar towered walls of the orphanage.

Yuri pulls his door open, slamming it closed again, hopping onto the ground and then walking to the large wood doors, a sleepy dog tailing behind. The couple share a look, mentally sending what little support they can in such a hopeless situation. Viktor gives Yuuri’s thigh a comforting squeeze, before opening his door and stepping out into the parking lot.

Even through the closed door they can hear the other kids, running around, laughing and screaming and playing. Yuri looks sick, tears threatening to bubble out, but stubbornly he shows what he thinks is a hooded emotion. The nanny, Erica, opens the door with a gentle smile aimed at the group.

“Thank you so much for…” Yuri doesn’t wait for her, pushing himself past her without a word, his furry escort trotting after him. “I’m sorry, he’s... temperamental.” She sighs.

“I’m sorry we caused such an issue. We didn’t mean to encourage him into this.” Yuuri apologizes.

“It’s not your fault. He’s always been set in his ways. When he gets an idea in his head, there is nothing that can stop him.” Erica reassures.

“If we had driven him home the first time, then maybe he’d…” Yuuri sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too… I hesitate to ask, but New Years is next week, if you two are available, would you mind spending it here? I’m worried he’ll repeat his Christmas stunt and I just don’t want him lost in the celebration.” Erica pleas, looking apologetic. “I can keep an eye on him, but…”

“Of course.” Yuuri agrees, with a little bow. “Anything we can do.”

“I appreciate that, and I’m so sorry.” Erica smiles, weakly, the weight of being a woman with too many children heavy on her shoulders. Yuuri is about to reassure her, when at last Viktor speaks up.

“Who do I have to pay to bring my son home for good!” His voice is clear, and clipped. Erica and Yuuri give him a surprised look, but he is dead serious; he would sell everything he owns for his family. Buy a beach house for the judge, a car for the mayor, even hand over all of his gold medals. He doesn’t care what it will take, he will take the risk. Erica opens her mouth, sucking in a breath. As she lets her breath out, her shoulders slump and her gaze looks back into the building, catching sight of Makkachin playing tug of war with the kids. She reaches behind her, closing the door, cutting off the noise to a dim buzz.

Erica looks the couple over, her gaze then falling onto their eyes. She’s seen thousands of families in her lifetime, hundreds of parents all just as eager as these two. She’s made it her job to know each of them, to see exactly who they are behind the forced smiles and empty promises. She can see the difference between love based desperation, and an unhealthy need for possession. In these two’s eyes, she sees love; one a timid and eternal devotion, the other bold and fiery passion. Both genuine. She can tell by their actions, as well as their eyes. Still, all she can do is give another lofty sigh.

“I cannot push your papers through, that will still take time.” She pulls a pile of wadded napkins from her pocket, digging out a pen from another and pushing her thin wire-framed spectacles up the bridge of her long nose with her free hand. “Go here, and ask to see Nikolai Plisetsky.” She writes an address into the top napkin and passes it to Yuuri, looking into his eyes. “I doubt you’ll get him to budge, but if you want Yuri sooner, this is who you’ll have to ask.” Yuuri takes the napkin, holding it gingerly, almost as if he’s afraid to hope.

“What do we say?” Yuuri asks. Viktor is already reading the address, pulling out his phone to map his way to it.

“Tell him what’s happening, and how much you care about Yuri. Don’t get your hopes up though, I don’t want you to feel like this is an easy out. There is still a lot to be done, but with his blessing you can have Yuri the moment you’re approved.” Erica clicks her pen, shoving it and the papers back in her pocket. “He has very specific requirements for Yuri’s parents, and so far every family to ever try to get Nikolai to bend his standards, or even _be_ approved when they _do_ fit the requirements, have been denied.” She folds her arms, giving a sigh. “It’s practically impossible to adopt Yuri, even for parents who already have their papers through.”

Yuuri holds the napkin close, swallowing hard. He admittedly feels intimidated. Who were they to try and change the mind of a man with such a hardass reputation, and how could they possibly take a child even the orphanage worker can’t place? Yuuri feels the weight of it, the chill and hopeless bite; and yet, he cannot stop himself from smiling, his fingers clinging to the paper like it’s a lifeline.

Viktor smiles at her words as well, pulling his pricey sunglasses off his shirt and flicking them open. “I was once told as a child something was impossible,” he dramatically slides the glasses across his nose as he finishes his comment. “But I then ended up doing the impossible five times in a row.”  Erica gives him a hopeful smile, though it is directed at Yuuri. She pulls open the door, letting the sounds of kids laughter free from the stony walls.

“Then I hope you can do it a sixth time.” She encourages.

From where Yuuri stands he can see Viktor wink. Erica, however, could not have seen it through his tinted lenses. With an exasperated sigh Yuuri sticks his head in the door, calling for Makkachin. The dog lifts his gaze, dropping a toy rope and sending three toddlers tumbling back. After a quiet whine and a quick lick on Yuri’s face, the dog comes as he’s called.

“Thank you so much for this.” Yuuri says as Viktor leads the dog to the car.

“No, thank you for your patience with Yuri, and for loving him enough to try.” Erica gives a small smile. “I wish you both the best of luck.” Yuuri returns the smile and nods his head. He wants to say more, but finds there are no words left as he gives another thank you, retreating to the car.

Yuuri seats himself down onto the black leather -- with needless red stitching --  falling next to his husband, the car revving to life as Viktor turns the keys in the ignition. Makkachin makes his way into Yuuri’s lap, but he is quickly halted, being directed to his seat in the back and buckled into his harness. After receiving a dejected snort from the dog, Yuuri turns to Viktor with an incredulous look.

“Did you really just compare winning five gold medals to adopting a child?” Yuuri scoffs.

“Did I?” Viktor questions the testament with a knowing smile.

“You’re such a dork.” Yuuri laughs.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I was expecting something more like... a house.” Viktor starts, putting a stop to the purr of the engine. “A mansion perhaps?”

“It makes sense… why else would someone be so stubborn about a the new parents of the child he put in an orphanage.” Yuuri admits.

“You ready?” Viktor turns, smiling and reassuringly lacing their fingers together.

“As ready as I ever will be, I think.” Yuuri nods, giving Viktor’s hand a squeeze before releasing him and pulling open his door. Yuuri unbuckles Makkachin’s harness, and the couple rejoin their hold on each other when they make their way around the car, Viktor locking the doors of the audi A7 cherry red convertible --  the cadillac at home for ‘casual drives’ -- before walking with his husband and their very curious dog to the large hospital doors.

“We would like to see Nikolai Plisetsky?” Viktor asks the woman at the front desk. Her eyes looked them over, before a smile crossed her face.

“Oh! You’re another one of those, aren’t you?” she chuckles. “Let me turn you around in the right direction now, nobody ever gets through to that old man. You are not the first nor will you be the last.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Viktor’s smirk has enough confidence to start a business.

“Mhmm, I have given this speech to about three other unsuccessful couples.” the secretary points out. “Just this year.” She raises her eyebrows as if to bring the point home.“Well, there's a first time for everything.” Viktor beams.

She laughs. “Well, I like you, so I will tell you what; I am going to give you directions to his room, but when he turns you away why don’t you help me spread the word?”

“Who says we will be turned away?” Viktor says, earning him a light jab in the rib.

“Statistics say so,” she smiles. “Go to the second floor, it’s five doors down on the right in hall G. Not so sure he’ll be a fan of the dog.” she warns, leaning her head on her hand, “Also, don’t bribe him. Nothing pisses off the gezer more than being offered money.” Viktor laughs good naturedly.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Viktor gave a wave turning towards where she pointed. Yuuri nodds.

“Thank you, really.” Then follows after his husband, who has located an elevator. Yuuri slips in with Makkachin, closing the doors behind him.

“Did she say second floor or fourth?” Viktor asks, his confidence seemingly deflating just a bit.

“Second. You were going to try and bribe Mr. Plisetsky, weren’t you.” Yuuri pushes the button marked ‘2’, watching Viktor’s face. He says nothing, nor does he have too, they both know the answer is yes. “Deep breaths love, if we _both_ freak out then we're doomed.” Yuuri reassures.  

“I’ll be fine, I’ll just explain the situation.” Viktor’s hand finds and crushes Yuuri's. “Any sane man would agree.”

It's not often, but every blue moon Viktor becomes nervous. Very nervous. He is not inhuman, and normal jitters get him as much as anyone; in a shady neighborhood, before an interview, even when lost. These types of ‘nervous’ aren't big deals, years of practice making it near impossible to see when Viktor faces those. However, in times like these, not even his years under the spotlight could hide his nerves. His hand shakes in Yuuri’s, his heart thumping hard in his chest, stress and fear bundling there in an evil knot.

He knows he’ll be fine, nothing will hurt him. He rarely ever worries about himself, because he knows he can survive anything life can throw at him. Today, however... it isn’t about him, it is about an innocent child who doesn’t know the dangers he faces on a daily bases, a child who wants for nothing more than a real home, a child who has no power over his own life. A child who’s relying on this encounter to be successful.

Yuuri knocks, and they wait for an answer. An old voice calls from the other side.

“If it's not dinner then leave.” Yuuri gives Viktor a concerned look. Viktor shrugs, shoving open the door. The room is as small as two beds can comfortably fit, a white curtain separating the two. One bed sitting empty while in the other lays a man maybe 70 or 80 years old.

“Nikolai Plisetsky?” Viktor asks tentatively. The man turns his eyes from the TV in the corner to shoot them both a much scarier version of a familiar green eyed glare. The room fills with the soft wheezing click of his oxygen tank, as Nikolai gives the two a judgmental once over. His gaze daggers, his expression unreadable.

“I know you two. Nikiforov, and Katsuki. The gold medallists who gave up their careers for romantic garbage.” Nikolai states. Viktor grips Yuuri's hand a little tighter.

“We decided to retire.” Viktor begins explaining.

“No, you ruined Katsuki’s career because you got too old and jealous.” Nikolai cuts him off harshly. Viktor’s eyes narrow.

“That's not what we're here about.” Yuuri interjects, softly, tugging on Viktor's arm before he can react. “We, uh-”

“I know why you're here, why else would a famous couple visit lowly old Nikolai?” he turns to his TV, lifting the remote to change the channel. “And already I know my answer,” Nikolai reaches up, scratching his salt and pepper beard. “Of all the skaters in the world to ask to raise my grandson, Nikiforov is the last on my list.”

“What!” Viktor gasps, his voice high and shocked.

“You're too self serving, inconsistent, irresponsible. I’ve watched you since your debut back in Juniors. Seen you win and lose, how little you cared for those around you and how distant you are, how you obsess over things until the next obsession shows up. You'll be no good for my Yuri. Hell, you probably only want him as just another phase, like that spoiled dog of yours, and poor Katsuki forever retired to stay by your selfish side.” Yuuri lets out a sudden soft yelp, accidentally cutting off Nikolai. Viktor's hand clasped so tightly on Yuuri’s now, that the knuckles were squishing painfully together.

“Sorry.” Viktor breathes, forcing his death grip to drop Yuuri’s hand. He looks ready to breathe fire.

“That's another thing. Your rage is nearly as legendary as you.” Nikolai continues. “Not many remember it, but I saw your first real loss, that stunt you pulled how very close it came to ending your career before it even started. Your coach covered it up pretty well, but I will never forget.” Yuuri blinks, turning to Viktor as if to ask. “He threw a chair after flubbing his first try for the grand prix, threw it so hard you could hear it over the award ceremony. He was never invited back to America's competitive skates again.” Nikolai gives a huff, at last meeting Viktor's eyes. “On ice you may be a King, but off ice you're just another messed up child celebrity blind to reality by both fame and fortune. And I’d rather die than let Yuri have that kind of father.” Nikolai lifts a hand, waving them to go. “Now that's settled, I have some very important TV to watch.”

Yuuri can feel the heat radiating off Viktor, see the murder in his eyes. Viktor is good about taking hits, having taken them for years in front of live television where every eye would find a different way to blow things out of proportion. His pride is not that important to him, he can fake it even when his pride is shot. But here and now, with the life of the boy he so dearly loves on the line, he has lost it, all the nerves from before igniting into a white hot rage.

“Who the _HELL_ do you think you are?!” Viktor shouts, the intensity of which sending Makkachin to scurry behind Yuuri for cover. “You, sitting there judging a complete stranger as you rot in you bed, holding an innocent child hostage?” Viktor clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Do you even _know_ why we’re here, truly?! Do you even care? No! Because you are a spiteful old man who wastes what little life he has left ruining the chances your grandson has at a normal life!” Viktor spits

“Who do I think _I_ am? Oh I dunno, maybe the _only_ family Yuri has? The man who took him in when his daughter died, who raised Yuri on practically nothing. The man who knows him better than you, and your sick delusions of family. You think you can get anything you want with money, that a beautiful child will make a lovely addition to your trophy family. Blue ribbon Poodles and impressionable young skaters are one thing. But MY Yuri is not a prize, he is not a trophy! He is a child, _MY_ child! And as such, I have the pleasure to tell you _no_! and the right to tell you to get the hell out.” Nikolai finishes, breathing hard at the effort, reaching over to increase his oxygen to compensate for the exhausted output of energy. Yuuri can see the bull behind Viktor's eyes, sees the turret of flames and insults building behind that icy blue.

“Viktor, take Makkachin to the children's ward.” Yuuri suggests, shoving the leather leash in towards Viktor. Viktor blinks, looking at Yuuri with the same deathly expression he’d been giving Nikolai. Yuuri can't understand how Nikolai isn't terrified, Yuuri himself almost backed down, and the rage wasn't even directed at him. “Go on, I’ll be just a minute,” Yuuri coaxes, taking Viktor's shaking fists and shoving Makkachin’s leash into them. “Go.” At last, the word seem to sink in, and Viktor obeys, shooting Nikolai a glare before thundering out of the room.

“That was easy. Normally the orphanage sends me files to read and I have to talk with the parents. But this time, I knew off the bat.” Nikolai chuckles, turning back to the TV. Yuuri gives a shaky sigh, closing his eyes.

“Please forgive Viktor.” Yuuri bows deeply. “He means well.” Yuuri lifts his head, smiling apologetically.

“He means well, for his own agenda.” Nikolai corrects, never breaking eye contact with the screen. Yuuri shoves down the part of him that wants to take that TV remote and place it just out of reach from the incapacitated elderly man.

“How aware are you of our involvement with your grandson?” Yuuri calmly asks. This seems to hit a nerve with Nikolai, his brows furrowing.

“I know what that Orphanage remembers to tell me.” Nikolai hrumfs, avoiding the question.

“Then you’re aware that Yuri has been running away from the orphanage and to our home for a month now?”

“I have heard no such thing, nor do I believe you. I chose the best orphanage in town, there’s no way they would allow that.” Nikolai bristles.

“It’s true. We were sent by the orphanage to tell you. We were told to ask you to allow us to adopt Yuri without any delays, in order to assure his safety.” Something in Nikolai’s expression made Yuuri add “Even if it isn’t permanent, letting us just foster him would be enough to keep him safe.”

“You can say what you like. But I cannot in good conscious let my Grandson be raised in your home. Nor do I ever want him hopping from parent to parent. His heart is too small to handle that.” Nikolai’s voice comes out firm, but soft.

“That’s not fair. You can only see so much from this room. Can you at least ask Yuri what _he_ wants?” Yuuri begs, feeling hopeless. The words seem to light something inside of Nikolai, his eyes averting from Yuuri completely.

“He’s a child, what he want’s is not always best.” Nikolai’s words are so quick, Yuuri has to guess half of them, refreshing the foreign syllables in his head until at last it clicks, sitting heavy in his gut.

“Maybe not… but surely his happiness matters,” Yuuri objects. Nikolai is quiet for a long time, his eyes away from Yuuri, away from even the TV. Yuuri has a strange feeling about this sudden somber reaction, and decides to push it. “We could bring him here… I’m sure he could explain his feelings better than I,” this time the silence is almost tangible. The room is so quiet that even the soft TV and beeping equipment sounds too loud, crashing against the atmosphere, telling Yuuri to cut his losses and leave. He doesn’t, he presses one last time. “He might be thrilled enough seeing his dead grandfather, that he’d stop running away.” That’s it, the last straw. At last Nikolai speaks up.

“Get out.” Nikolai snaps. Yuuri blinks, knowing he probably should do as he’s told, as Nikolai’s previous rage nearly had given himself a heart attack, but he can’t.

“When was the last time you saw your grandson?” Yuuri pries. “I won’t leave until you tell me.” Nikolai takes a deep breath, letting out a somewhat shaky sigh, trying to hide his emotions.

“If I tell you, you have to promise to leave and never come asking about Yuri again.”

“I promise on my dog's life.” Yuuri nods seriously.

“Three years ago, I had my first stroke. The doctors told me I didn’t have much longer, that my body any day now could have another, and that second time I wouldn’t be so lucky. I immediately put Yuri in the orphanage, and wrote my will.” Nikolai grips his blankets, at last turning to Yuuri. “My time is limited. Every time I recover enough to get out of these walls, to even think about seeing Yuri, I find myself back in this bed.”

“I don’t have much left, I am accustomed to this... but Yuri is just a baby. He’s growing every day, but at no age will he be ready to lose his grandfather twice…” he pauses, swallowing hard. “I stay away to keep him safe, and use my time to search for his new family. Praying whomever they may be, they will raise him to be a happy and healthy child and to forget about his sad past.” Nikolai looks away, lost in his own thoughts, his voice turning soft and quiet and almost tired.

“Honestly, I should be dead right now but I was blessed. I have no doubt the only thing keeping me alive today is god blessing me with enough time to give Yuri a new start on life.” Nikolai clears his throat, meeting Yuuri’s teary eyes. “Now you know, get out.”

Yuuri’s mouth opens, waiting for words, then closes softly. His shoulders slump, defeated, and deflated.

“I…” Yuuri gives a small sigh, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “That’s not fair… for Yuri… Or you.” The words are soft, and simple, not an order, not an accusation, a simple fact. Nikolai stubbornly says nothing, and Yuuri, at last, leaves.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Viktor places the keys on the front hall table, watching Yuuri slink back into the living room, looking exhausted and emotionally spent. Viktor is trying not to think about it, how the whole adoption thing was his idea, and how it was also his fame that prevented them from taking home the child they both so dearly loved.

No, instead of focusing on the guilt, the knot in his throat, the weight on his shoulders, or the hollow empty feeling carving away at him, he feeds Makkachin and calls a local place to deliver dinner, knowing Yuuri is too worn out to cry anymore, let alone cook.

Viktor takes a calming breath, reminding himself to be the strong one, to support his poor Yuuri. He can’t be sad or show his devastation, only be the best husband he can manage to be in that moment, but instead a shoulder to cry on, rather than the useless blubbery mess that he is under the winning smile.

He meets Yuuri on the couch, noting Yuuri's coat and shoes are still on/. He is laying on his front, as if he'd walked into the sofa, fell over the arm and didn’t have the will nor strength to move from there. Viktor sits beside the couch, stroking Yuuri’s head.

“Hi.” Viktor Initiates.

“Hey.”  Yuuri mumbles into the cushion.

“I ordered dinner.” Viktor informs.

“Thank you.” Yuuri responds genuinely. Viktor lets the time tick by, moving his hand down Yuuri’s neck, gently rubbing his shoulders. Massaging out the stress to the best of his abilities, his heart yearning for nothing more than to join him in his wallowing, to curl into Yuuri and cry. Instead he devotes all his attention away from the pit in his soul, and focuses on spelling Yuuri’s name across the thick wool jacket, writing it out in large looping cursive. Yuuri gives a small hum of approval, lifting his face and pulling off his glasses, placing them by his head on the couch.

“I’m sorry.” Viktor means to keep his voice steady, but to his dismay, cannot whisk the shakiness out of his throat. Yuuri is still, giving Viktor hope that he didn’t hear, didn’t hear the guilt and pain. He really can’t expect that from Yuuri though. Yuuri rolls towards Viktor, taking his face in his hands, watching him, looking from one eye to the other, reading them. He says nothing, simply watching. Viktor feels worse meeting Yuuri’s eyes, warm and brown, still pink from crying. This is all Viktor's fault. Yuuri shouldn’t cry, should never be sad again, never. Viktor swallows, blinking rapidly before looking away from the burning gaze.

“Would you like me to make some dessert?” Viktor asks, trying to think about the sound of Makkachin eating, the curve of Yuuri’s back, anything to stop his emotion from welling up. Yuuri scoots closer, pulling Viktor into the crook of his neck, cupping his head with his hand and cradling his shoulders towards him. Taking a deep breath, he slowly lets it go.

 _Be strong, he needs you to be strong_. Viktor repeats in his head again and again, waiting for Yuuri to cry, reaching his hands around Yuuri’s shoulders and patting his back, closing his eyes. He remembers the last hug he got that day, trying to think back to a happier moment. The soft hug he’d given Yuuri that morning, the quick one when he left for lunch. There was another, he knew there had to be.

 _Small feet pad to the door, accompanied by eager but careful paws. Little arms wrap around his knees, the tiny voice calling him “_ _папаша._ _” Big green eyes look up into his, a small smile blooming over his perfectly chubby face._

It’s game over now. Emotion breaks through his will as if it were paper, his heart shatters, tears flooding into Yuuri’s shoulder hard and fast. His grip on the thin frame crushes Yuuri closer, clinging to him in hopes that he doesn’t fall apart entirely.   

“I’m sorry,” Viktor chokes out. “I’m so sorry.” His wall of support for Yuuri turns into paper under water now, dissolving into a useless pulpy mess. He can’t be the emotional one, he has to be strong, stand tall when Yuuri cannot. And yet, in his mind he sees the beautiful child in his arms, hears that warbling giggle, knows exactly how to pull it forth, and Viktor crumbles.

“I’m sorry,” _that Yuri cannot join our family because I am a selfish man._

“I’m sorry.” _to get your hopes up in the first place._

“I’m sorry.” _to lose my temper, to ruin our last chance._

“I’m sorry,” _to make you cry!_

Yuuri’s hands hold him wordlessly, taking in the apologies, accepting them in his quiet way. Collecting each and gently placing them away, keeping each in mind but never worrying to hard about them, placing them in a box in his heart where he’ll open them one day and feel the love they carry.

With the apologies in mind, he gracefully sweeps Viktor up, taking the pieces one by one and glueing him back together. Yuuri has no box to tell him how to puzzle together Viktor time and time again, sometimes he makes mistakes, forgets a piece or places it in wrong. But for Viktor, all he needs is for Yuuri to try. To pat his back, to listen to his doubts, to never worry, to never hate. Simply patiently gathering Viktor until Viktor can at last pull himself together.

Dinner arrives with a fanfare of barking, and Yuuri goes to answer the door, but Viktor gets there first, a smile on his face as he exchanges money for food, sending the charmed delivery man away with a warm. “Have a good evening.” His face dropping the moment the door closes, grin melting away with a shaky sigh.

“Let’s eat in the living room.” Yuuri speaks at last, though Viktor could swear they’d been talking the whole time. Yuuri gets forks and plates, setting them down on the coffee table side by side. It’s not for Yuuri’s sake that he has his hand in Viktor’s as they eat, in fact Yuuri needs his right hand to eat. It is for Viktor’s sake he leaves it in his lap, like a dog reaching their paw out to just barely touch you, non-verbal physical contact speaking louder than reassuring words ever could. It is enough to bring the tears back, softer now, more of a mournful memory than the painful reality.

They eat. Calm and quiet, peaceful and relaxing. In spite of this, Viktor can never understand why Yuuri says it’s nice to cry, it is painful, both emotionally and physically. Your heart is breaking, and your head is throbbing from dehydration. Basically the emotional baggage from high school with the morning after hangover of college parties all at once. On top of that, you’re feeling pathetic in front of your loved ones; really not worth the strange almost unsettling peace that follows, not when most of the time that peace is soured by the reason you were crying in the first place.

“I wonder if he likes Chinese food.” Viktor realizes that he wonders out loud. Sometimes he wished he knew how to shut his tactless mouth. ‘He’ of course refers to Yuri. Viktor finds himself wondering these types of things again and again. ‘What doesn’t Yuri like?’ ‘what kind of food will he be picky about?’ ‘what size shoes will he wear?’ little things Viktor can learn in a week, then memorize, and make into his daily routine if given the chance.

“He’ll have no choice, that's about 50% of what I make.” Yuuri’s reply comes out simple and clear. He drops a dumpling as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his left hand.

“I wonder if he’d draw on the walls.” Viktor drops Yuuri’s hand to let him eat.

“The living room needs a new coat of paint anyway.” Yuuri takes Viktor's hand into his left, trading them to successfully eat at last.

“I wonder how he would have handled being in trouble.” Viktor laments.

“He’ll likely try to talk his way out, then cry when he doesn't get his way.” Yuuri replies. Viktor looks away, feeling the words before he was certain what they would end up being.

“I hate that I know what Yuri looks like when he cries, better than his smile.” Viktor can hardly breathe around the lump those words left lodged in his throat. Yuuri squeezes Viktor’s hand, taking a long breath and slowly letting it go, silently reminding Viktor to breathe. Viktor blinks a few times, looking soulfully at his plate. The silence is drawn out, deathly and foreboding. Viktor wishes he could take back the words, make a joke to lighten the mood, but finds he can't. Yuuri picks at his food, then suddenly sits up, turning his eyes to Viktor. A warm idea sits behind those eyes, and in spite of himself, Viktor feels their light of hope. Yuuri leaps up, disappearing upstairs. Before Viktor can even form a question, Yuuri is thumping his way down the steps holding a familiar box of stationery, and a gorgeous blue pen.  

“Do you remember when I went home for that month a few years back?” Yuuri’s expression tells Viktor there is quite more to this memory than just this.

“Yes. I doubt I can ever forget.” Viktor answers.

“I was very depressed then, I wanted to cry every day, to abandon everything and just run away and live with you.” Yuuri gives Viktor a look, raising his brows as if there were something he was trying to imply.

“I wouldn't have been mad if you did, I would have welcomed you with open arms.” Viktor answers truthfully. Yuuri still looks expectant, as if there is more, kneeling by the table and clearing away space for the box. He sits with his  back straight, feet crossed beneath him in a way that makes Viktor think of samurai and tea ceremonies

“At that time, the only thing keeping me sane was reading your words,” he slides the lid off the box, exposing the clean white sheets with gold embossing around the edges, Viktor’s initials sitting at the bottom under the border, curled and stylized. “The only thing keeping me alive was writing out the blockage of feelings in my heart.” Yuuri’s short and clever fingers selects a single page. He picks up the pen in one hand -- a pen that now looks so cheap compared to the beautiful hand cradling it. The writing is smooth and clean, dragging across the upper left hand corner, curving into Yuuri’s bubbly handwriting.

_Dear Yuri._

“A lot can happen in seven years. More than we’ll be able to remember. Questions, thoughts, feelings,” Yuuri lays the pen down on the page, sliding it in front of Viktor. “And since you can't tell him in person, why don't you take notes for when you can tell him?” Yuuri gives a small, weak smile, he knows it's not the child they want so desperately to adopt, and that it isn't a real solution, but it is all he can give.

Viktor thinks this is more than enough. He takes the pen in one hand, looking over the blank page that is so full of promise and opportunity, just waiting for him to fill it. He feels Yuuri’s head lean on his shoulder, gripping his arm loosely.

“What should I write?” Viktor's voice is quiet, uncharastically shy.

“If he were here, what would you tell him?” Yuuri replies calmly. Viktor looks back to the page, thinking of the boy’s blond fringe falling into his face. The angry pout he wore when they first met, how he hid away like a cornered cat. The pen touched down, and words began to flow.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dear Yuri,_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I love you, and hope you are well. Your father and I think about you every day. How smart and brave your are, how you much you make us smile and laugh, and how much we miss you when we have to take you home. It is always too quiet without you around, I know you don’t probably believe it, but we miss you more than you may ever know._  
> 
> Viktor finds he can write for hours, telling the child all the things he knew he couldn’t in real life -- things he knew would raise the child’s hopes more than they already were. The love that he had flowing across the page with every line of ink. At the end, he finds himself crying, his head on Yuuri, letter laying before him, several pages long, and Viktor still had more to say. How could a child he’d known for such a short time make him feel so much?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, noooow we know why Yuri is still in an orphanage though his gandfather is alive, and why said gandpa is so salty and grumpy. (Also because his rage is low key based off of Beans' own grandad, also low key explains why Beans is the way Beans is.)
> 
> How many ways can Kei come up with to say that guy who contributed giving birth to that other guy who contributed to giving birth to you? Well, you see...
> 
> Here's where you can all direct your hate mail: [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/)


	8. Half As Bitter For The Sweetest Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *[T] and emo af
> 
> In which Viktor finally learns what it really means to be a father...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should we even still be apologizing anymore? You signed up for this, slow burn IS a tag and we plan to abuse it. (Okay not too much though please don't hate us we're sorry and love you all passionately <3 )

_Dear Yuri_

 

_Hello my sweet child. It's chilly out, so I hope you remembered your gloves and hat, after all, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold because no one likes being sick. It would be especially a shame, considering the surprise we have for you! It's been about a week since we last met, and since then I spoke with someone very special to you. He’s a bit grumpy towards me, but I can tell he loves you very much! Before you can meet him, however, your father and I have a few people to talk to - boring stuff of course - but we also have to buy a card for him. Last I saw him I said some rather rude things that I must apologize for, so I will ask you deliver an apology card to him for me. After all, he won’t want to see me, just you. Even though we don’t get along, I want him to hear nice words, I want you to know that even as an adult apologies are very important. I was quite rude to him last time we spoke, and that's not fair. Everyone deserves an apology you know, even if you feel like they should be the one apologizing. Especially then._

 

_Don't worry, you’ll be happy to see him again, he loves you an awful lot. I know it might all be a bit much for such a little man, but you're a very brave boy, and hopefully the worst will be a tantrum. From whom I’m not sure... Your father is worried at how things will go; he keeps making backup plans and pacing the living room, your brother fallowing at his heels. I don't think there’s going to be an issue, I can feel it. You're a happy boy, and your surprize is a sentimental man I’m sure it will go over quite smoothly._

 

_I saw a kitten for sale the other day and thought of your stuffed friend. Do you like cats? You have a few kitty themed toys, so I assume so. I’m more of a dog person, but if you ever wanted a cat I wouldn't mind. Your father is happy with any animals that cross his path, as he is a gentle and kind soul. I bring it up and hope you like cats, as we picked a card with a cat on it; a cartoon tiger curled up on his bed in a tree. I like it, your father said we might consider something more reserved and adult, meaning; plain white and boring. However, after a short discussion he saw it my way. I explained since you’re delivering the card that it should be something you’d enjoy. Or at least I hope that you will enjoy._

 

_Hmm... I don't know what is the correct thing to write in this card. Beyond “sorry” what is there? Your surprise doesn't like me very much, sadly…. And if he had his way I'd never see you again. Which is painful, but I understand his reasoning. How can I convey that without being too overbearing? My feelings towards this man are mixed, to say the least. He’s in charge, and very stubborn. And yet I think he is that way because he is very worried about you, and loves you dearly. To me, that is good enough to tolerate and appreciate him. Anyone who loves you and cares for your well being more than himself is a good man in my book! I don’t know how to convey that in words properly._

 

“I’m sorry for my outburst, it was unfair and childish. I wish could take it back. After what Yuuri has told me, I want you to know I truly appreciate what you do for Yuri (that’s you!) and respect your wishes. Thank You. both Yuuri and myself will leave you and your grandson be. I’m sorry.”

 

_The words feel so empty compared to how my heart feels. They seem so soulless, without emotion. I hope it is enough, it is all I can write without filling this tiny card. Even if he is a little unpleasant towards me, and his efforts are in the wrong direction. I will respect his wishes._

 

_Ah! You father has decided, at last, to sign the card. He’s grumbling about how childish this effort seems and how it won't change a thing. Aw, I love him so much even for a pessimist. Things will work out, I just know it. I’ll come back after we have carried out our plan and tell you how it went._

 

_Виктор_

 

_I love you little Prince! Stay warm!_

 

**_勇利_ **

  


* * *

 

 

The chill of the morning is bitter and icey as Viktor gets himself ready for the day, the night before even still pounding against his soul - and his skull. He has a mild “hangover” from crying, a feeling he is not used to, nor ever wishes to be. Yuuri deserves so much more love for the toll his body faces, after all the crying he has done just this week alone. Viktor makes a mental note to bake something sweet and chocolatey later for Yuuri, he deserves a bit of spoiling.

Yuuri doesn't need to come into the rink until a little later, his class schedule far more reasonable than Viktor’s. Though part of Viktor envies the extra sleep his love gets, he really needs the distraction of work today.

The rink is near empty when Viktor arrives, the large space void of human sounds, the doors are unlocked however, which means Yakov at least must be in. Viktor finds his locker, and puts his gym bag inside, pulling out his earbuds and skates, strapping them on as he selects a playlist. His taste isn't so much loud music, the most aggressive his playlist gets is opera and the occasional ‘Ain't nothing but a hound dog’, but it's enough.

He takes to the ice -- though as a coach he should be getting the gym ready and writing up a new workout routine -- today he needs to skate. It feels almost like years since he really skated, ran a program, seen the world. A large part of him which he gave up, not because he wanted it to end, but because he is too old to continue; it’s the end of his era. He hadn't wanted to leave this, leave the wide expanse of freedom the ice had always given him. But he knows it had just been his time, and gracefully stepped down.

Viktor softly skates easy laps letting the music speak to him, tell him how he should move, waiting for its cue to him, its tug, pulling his skates to the ice, inviting him to join the melody in dance. The beat of the song guiding his hips, the tune filling his cheats bubbling up his neck and throat, floating through the tips of his fingers. His skates count each measure, his body becoming a vessel for the song, a page to write its story. He feels the music like a hand at his waist, guiding him through the waltz as if they were partners. Note progression lead him like fingers on his lower back, turn here, jump here, crossovers, head up, smile. The crescendo sends him into the air, spinning rapidly, and just barely landing the quad, a skill that used to be easy as breathing to him.

His landing is rough, losing his rhythm. Part of him calculates how many points that blunder would have lost him, the other half reciting one of Yakov’s favorite lectures, _‘don't do dangerous jumps when you've been lazing around! for god’s sake practice!’_ this is practice, Viktor rationalizes, foregoing music to attempt the jump again, this time landing smoothly.

 _‘See, still got it’_ he beams, doing a few laps before attempting anything else, his inner ear still spinning a bit from two attempts directly after each other. Okay, a bit rusty. He needs to practice more, but never found the time for it.

When had been his last real practice? Viktor cannot even recall. November? October? And they are now in late December. If he were planning on competing, Yakov would have ripped him apart for going that long. These are the perks of retirement, he guesses.

Another song starts off, soft and gentle, this one is a shy dancer, talking to him but politely refraining from asking him for too much. It’s a sweet and playful melody, one that you could only really dance ballet to, graceful and patient. The music speaks softly, telling him its humorous tale, a warm feeling stepping into his heart with the sound of it; a happy bubbly feeling. He can see it almost in his mind, a child playing happily in the yard. Mischievous plinks of violin strings as the boy digs up worms, piano and flutes accompanying him as he attempts to climb up to donate his worms to the baby birds in a tree.

Viktor laughs as the child’s fingers give way before he can make it to the top, he slides down the trunk, landing with thump on his little bum. Viktor takes the crying child in his arms, hugging him into a spin building speed while comforting and cradling him close. At last the child wriggles free, toddling off as his true mother call him for dinner. Viktor watches him go, arching backward and looking to the heavens, lifting his leg into a layback spin and hooking his gloved fingers into his skate and settling into the pose watching the ceiling spin, until his speed slows to a stop. After a moment he drops his skate, the weight of his leg digging into the ice as his toepick plants down for balance.

The music plays without him now, light fluttering violins in his ears, the child being scolded for his dirty hands and torn pants. Viktor pulls out his phone, pausing the song.

“Not bad,” Viktor looks up seeing Yakov watching him, leaning on the barrier, his expression resembling that of a disgruntled bulldog as it always seemed to appear. “Your jumps are terrible, form is off, and I don't even know what that was with the spin, but it killed your momentum.” Viktor presses his the palm of his hand against his eyes, wiping away the tears.

“Glad you liked it.” Viktor grins skating back, doing a few crossovers before lifting his leg, jumping a soft turn and making simple reverse figure 8’s. Yakov gives a noncommittal grunt resting his jowls on his hand.

“What's wrong, Vitya? That brat keep running away?” Yakov asks, knowing that Viktor, even in retirement, only skates poorly when something is on his mind.

“Yuri,” Viktor corrects. “And yes, he is. Though it's not such a bother to me. It's taking him back to the orphanage that kills me.” Viktor makes a simple jump, switching legs so he skates forward clasping his hands behind his back lazily grabbing his skate behind him.

“They should just let you adopt him already. The kid is going to be hit by a car or something. That, or relocate him so far away there’s no way he can find you.” Yakov wonders aloud, watching Viktor's playful skating, noting the moment the words hit his retired pupil, his relaxed form stiffens, becoming formal instead of Viktor's normal fluid version of it.

“There's a lot of rules it seems. See, we haven't got our papers in, until now. Yuuri is from another country, so that’ll take time.” Viktor shrugs, placing his foot down and kicking off firmly, shifting from one foot to the other. “As for relocating him; not a chance,” Viktor skids to a stop in front of Yakov, folding his arms, wearing a glare. “He has a living relative.”

“And they are stubborn about the orphanage he’s in?” from the eye roll Viktor gave Yakov could guess he nailed it square on the head. “Perhaps you should talk to them.” Viktor gives an audible scoff, kicking off with such force ice chips fly.

“I did, and it seems he followed my career, even back to my junior debut,” Viktor huffs, picking up speed, crouching down. “He even saw little 14 year old me throw that stupid tantrum back when I hardly counted as a skater. Thinks that is a staple for my abilities as a father.” Viktor is now going too fast to safety attempt any jumps, crouched down like a speed skater, clearly letting the emotion out.

“What happened?” Yakov asks, having missed most of the rant, as Viktor's gold blades are louder than his voice, and Yakov’s ears are old. Viktor stands, directing himself to the center where he tilts his skates into a circle, absorbing his moment as he skated round and round, letting his speed drop until he at last stopped.

“He said I was irresponsible, and cannot control my rage. And worst of all implied I didn't love Yuuri!” Viktor exclaims, pouting about it as if he were a child.

“Why is his child up for adoption?” Yakov asks, rephrasing his original question. Viktor folds his arms, looking away.

“The man is in the hospital. Apparently, he has been for three years,” Viktor relents. “And since he can't move, neither can young Yuri. meaning though he cannot raise Yuri, nor can Yuri find parents past his strict screening, he's stubborn and rude.”

“Is he dying?” Yakov asks.

“It seems so.” Viktor sighs.

“Then what the heck is wrong with you?! Of course he's stubborn, he doesn't have the time to deal with parents he knows are wrong! Look at it from his eyes! If a cocky actor asked you to raise your son would you agree?” Yakov scolds. Viktor looks away.

“No… but, he should’ve at least taken the time to know I'm not some spoiled-” Viktor changed his phrasing as he met the glare Yakov wore “Okay, I am, but I can be more than that!”

“Well, did you show him your responsible side?” Yakov questions, feeling he already knows the answer. Viktor clears his throat.

“Well you see…”

“I thought so.” Yakov cuts off the explanation, guessing at exactly how the brat-of-a-man Nikiforov would react in that situation. “Stop thinking of it from your point of view. Think about how much he needs a good family in such a short time, how desperate and scared he must be by that daunting task. Old men are a rude and bitter bunch, but we have our reasons, his happens to be that self same child you won't shut up about. The same way this child made you react poorly, he reacts brashly.” Yakov finishes, giving a yawn.

“I just… He won’t even see Yuri, he refuses to see his own grandson! He maked a baby think he's dead so that he won't have to say goodbye.” Viktor looks at the ice sadly. Yakov nods.

“Even if you dislike this man, you both have one thing in common.” Yakov observes.

“And what's that?” Viktor lifts his gaze, brushing his hair behind his ear.

“You both deeply love Yuri.” Yakov shrugs. “Only difference is he is actually family, while you aren't. No matter how much love you feel, you need to remember that. He's the blood relative, he has the final say.” Yakov taps the flat top of the barrier, emphasizing his words with each firm tap.

Viktor looks away, opening his mouth to argue, until finally settling for a soft. “You're right…” his blue eyes lift to the ceiling, “I am being selfish after all…”

“Yes you are.” Yakov confirms with a brisk nod.

“I have been about this whole thing… Yuuri wanted to wait and I pushed him, the orphanage told me to wait and I pushed them, Nikolai told me to go away and I over reacted….” Viktor sighs, closing his eyes. Why oh why can't he think before acting? Why must everything he do be on impulse? Now everything is a mess. “I should just walk away while I still can.”

“No, that's not how a good father would act. Now is not the time to walk away, now is the time to dig your picks in and let him know you want Yuri’s best. Even if this means bowing to this man's version of it.” Yakov folds his arms leaning back. “If you consider Yuri your son then this man is now your father, even if he doesn't want to be. How would you best help your sick and elderly father? How would you make his final days comfortable?” Yakov finishes, raising a brow. Viktor looks to the side, thinking to himself. “Now, I don’t mean to mettle, I mean what can you do for this family while you can? Think of what's best for them, not you.”

“I think… I owe him an apology.” Viktor sighs.

“That’s a good start.” Yakov nods.

“I also I think he needs to see his grandson, and that Yuri needs his grandfather.” Viktor continues.

“Now that’s mettling… he doesn’t want to see his grandson.” Yakov warns.

“He might not want to, but he’s gunna!” Viktor beams, pulling out his phone.

“Don’t mettle! I told you to help, not disrupt! No one asked you to-” Yakov is cut off by the flirty sound of Yuuri’s name slipping from Viktor’s mouth.

“I’ll talk to you about it later, but I know what we’re gonna do~” Viktor says.

“Vitya!” Yakov shouts, on deaf ears, years of practice allowing Viktor to tune out the sound of it. Yakov thought somehow that now they weren’t teacher and studant there wouldn’t be need for the lectures, that he could maybe stop stressing out over this man’s infuriating sense of importance. There is no wonder why the grandfather had denied Viktor’s custody! Yakov waves it off, slumping off to continue with his actual work. Viktor was an adult, let him make poor choices.

He isn’t very far before strong arms wrap around him, a head burying into his shoulder. Without looking, he recognized his attacker as Viktor. It is the same heartfelt embrace he’d been getting for years, and though the height varied the meaning never changed.

“Thank you.” Viktor’s voice is quiet and meek.

“You’re heavy.” Yakov complains, silently appreciating the rare embrace. “You’ve had too much of Katsuki’s cooking.”

“That’s mean! It’s just a little winter weight, nothing I can’t lose by summer.” Viktor whines, hanging like a pouting child; a very tall and heavy child.

“Stop that before you pull my back out.” Yakov rebels, attempting to pry Viktor from his shoulders, Viktor only clinging tighter. They wrestle for a moment, before Yakov gives up, letting himself be hugged, pouting as if it isn’t something he enjoyed. Viktor laughs softly into his back.

“You should come over for dinner sometime.” Viktor’s voice is soft again, his tone serious. Yakov gives another noncommittal grunt. Viktor knows there’s nothing more concrete than that. “Next week? After the new year parties?”

“Sure.” Yakov sighs. Viktor gives him a quick squeeze before pulling away, stepping to the edge of the ice where he left his hard guards, clicking them on as Yakov gruffly collects his clip board. Around that time Viktor’s student shows up, preemptively ending the conversation.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“He’ll kick us out.” Yuuri frets in a soft tone, his hands wringing out his dry gloves in his lap.

“He won’t.” Viktor assures, looking up and down the pristine white halls, standing by where Yuuri sat.

“He’ll call the police and then we’ll have a criminal record.” Yuuri looks sick. To be honest if he were to choose a place to be sick, a hospital was at least a great choice.

“We won’t be there long enough for that.” Viktor reaches a hand down, patting his husband’s shoulder. “If you can’t do it, I won’t force you.” Yuuri gazes into Viktor’s eyes, looking anything but ready.

“He doesn’t want to see us. Least of all you! Can’t we drop it?” Yuuri pleads, he looks ready to cry. Viktor places his hands on either sides of Yuuri’s beautiful face, looking him over; The brown of his eyes, the curved and the slant of them. Reading the furrow of his brows, the way they watered. Noticing that tell tale the spark of panic behind them, his shaking fear that --though less now-- still occasionally took over Yuuri. Viktor can’t force Yuuri when he’s like this. His soul wouldn’t let him, and Yuuri only got worse when he tried in the past.

“Папа!” A small and painfully familiar voice calls from the hall. Viktor turns to it, his heart melting the moment his eyes laid on the boy. The little hand slipped from nanny’s as he ran forward, his arms out and somewhat throwing off his tiny balance, his precious tiny ponytail bouncing with the haphazard canter of his feet.

“Малютка.” Viktor hums, kneeling to receive the cub of a bear hug, cradling the tiny head over his shoulder. The familiar wave of warmth slips through him, the joy of having Yuri in his arms, the bubbly sound of his tiny laugh. The experience is addictive, a burst of simple joy that nothing else could possibly replace, a drug Viktor wishes he could quit, but since tasting it’s dizzying joy, he can never live without it. This child is a dealer to the one drug Viktor would die for.

Yuri wriggles free, turning to give Yuuri a chipper smile, then cocking his head and toddling over to rest his hands on Yuuri’s lap looking into his face.

“Are you sick?” Yuri looks to Viktor, then his eyes widen as something dawns on him. “Is that why we’re here?” Viktor wishes he could take Yuri in his arms and simply carry the bundle of innocence home, to protect him for the rest of his life. Viktor wishes to god it were that simple.

“No, I’m okay, see?” Yuuri smiles softly, offering his hands to the child.

“Good,” Yuri beams. Then looks back at his nanny, who hasn’t quite caught up yet. “She won’t tell me, but I think I know why.” Yuri whisperes, as if it were a secret. Yuuri leans down to hear the quiet voice over the hustle and bustle of the hospital.

“And why’s that?” Yuuri whispers back. The little boy leans up cupping his hand up to Yuuri’s ear.

“I only know one sick person, and that is grandpa.” Yuri says; he meant to whisper, but clearly didn’t quite understand fully how whispering worked -- his whisper loud enough for Viktor to hear.

“O-oh?” Yuuri asks his expression confused, and mildly panicked, looking to Viktor to silently ask for help. Viktor shrugs, smiling softly.

“Shh, little one, it’s a secret.” Viktor whispers patting the child on the head. Yuri pushes his hand away but looks at Viktor with a kind of wonder.

“It is? Why?” Yuri asks.

“It’s a surprize for your grandfather, he’s been missing you for a very long time.” Viktor replies with a bop on Yuri’s nose. Yuri scrunches his face in confusion.

“But I didn’t go anywhere.” Yuri observes with a cock of his head.

“Didn’t you miss him?” Viktor is just now wondering about his plan perhaps going wrong.

“I did! But if he missed me, he could have found me.” Yuri states. Viktor and Yuuri exchange looks before Yuri continues, shouldering off his bag and rummaging inside the tiger. “But… I guess he was a little stuck.” From the bag, he pulls a worn out leather wallet holding it up for them to see. “I have his wallet, and he can’t leave the house without it.” Yuri looks a little guilty, looking at the floor. Viktor’s heart melts, as he wraps Yuri in another hug chuckling at the pure sentiment.

“You can give it back to him today!” Viktor assures.

“So, what’s the plan?” Erica asks, looking over the three with a small smile.

“I, um,” Viktor hesitates, his plan _had_ been to walk in drop Yuri off and then just leave. He looks down to Yuri looking up at the adults. Viktor swallows. “We have… a card,” Viktor looks to Yuuri, who pulls it from his bag “We didn’t think he’s want to see us, so we wrote a small note so we’re not… in the way.”

“Why not?” Yuri asks incredulously. Viktor thinks briefly to the last time they’d met, with a wave of guilt. How do you explain to a child that you yelled at and insulted their grandfather without sounding like an asshole?

“W-well.” Viktor breathes.

“We can see him another time. This time it’s about you.” Yuuri cuts in, saving the clearly floundering Viktor.

“He’d like to see you I think, you’re nice to me, and he likes when people are nice.” Yuri gives a firm nod as if stating an unrefuted fact. Viktor silently dies from guilt.

“I’m sure he will, next time. This time you give him our letter, and have yourself a nice long visit.” Yuuri smiles, offering the envelope to the small child.

“Okay…” Yuri looks a bit upset, but takes the card in his chubby little hands. Viktor stands, patting the child’s back.

“Come along, then.” Viktor beams, herding the child forward through the hospital until they find themselves at a familiar door. Viktor knocks gently and listens for a response.

“If it’s not lunch, go away,” The old man calls. To Viktor’s surprize, Yuri’s eyes widen with a smile blooming across his little face. His little hand reaching up tugging the door on his own, flinging it open with all his tiny might. Nikolai looked to the door with a death glare, first noting Viktor, his expression turning dark. “You...” He growled, “I thought I made myself--” His threat was cut off by the happy squeak of a very excited toddler.

“Дед!” Yuri throws his little arms up, bouncing as high as he can, his excitement overflowing his tiny body as it tries to get out by any means. Nikolai barely has time to react before the child is clawing himself onto the bed to hug him tightly.

“Yuri…?” Nikolai’s face seems to melt, expression relaxing and lips turning up onto a small smile. He looks so shocked and happy that he forgets to be furious.

“I found you,” Yuri giggles. “The kids all said you were dead, but I knew they were wrong!” Yuri pushes himself back looking over his grandfather tilting his head. “Are you crying?”

Nikolai is, in fact, his expression a mix of nearly every emotion one could imagine. He was speechless, looking over his grandson as if he’s never seen him. His eyes - which Viktor only had known to be evil fury - now looks kind and soulful, in a way that very much reminded him of Yakov.

“I… You’re so big.” Nikolai stutters out, bringing his hand up to wipe his eyes as discreetly as possible for an old man. Yuri sits up, beaming.

“I made sure to eats lots! That’s why.” Yuri explains proudly. Nikolai looks at a loss for words, but nods in response. “I didn’t cut my hair, too! Even though the boys tease me for looking like a girl.”

“ _That’s_ , brave.” Nikolai manages, nodding to himself, a warm smile at last settling on his lips.

Yuri begins explaining how he tried to cut his hair, “BUT ONLY ONCE!” because he wanted to prove them all wrong, settling on the bed cross legged to tell his story. Nikolai patently hangs on every word, giving an occasional comment to indicate that he was in fact listening.

Part of Viktor wants still to hate Nikolai; to hate a man who would dare try and pry his son from his fingers, for every vicious remark he made towards him and his family. However he cannot shake Yakov’s words off. It was true, though he seemed gruff and gristle, all old men have a reason for being cranky. Watching the family reunion now, he could tell exactly why a grandfather would be so angry, nothing could possibly be more taxing than to be given a ray of sunshine, to know they are yours, and by all rights have them as your own -- only to have no other choice but to willfully give them up. Not because you wanted to, but because you fear that keeping them would dim their bright light.

Thinking about this brakes Viktor a little.

Viktor steps back, taking Yuuri’s hand. They exchange a look; Yuuri ‘s expression reflecting Viktor own, silently conveying the same thoughts. There was no sound more precious to them then that of Yuri’s happy storytelling, the chirp and warble of the words, but somehow, now, it seems overripe. Too sweet. The kind of overpowering sweet that hurts to eat.

They both love Yuri, and if given the chance would go through fire to protect him. But sometimes, fire isn’t hot to touch. Sometimes, fire is that pit in your stomach that comes from knowing they aren’t his real family. The sinking feeling of hopelessness that comes from remembering that they never were family, and never would be. They honestly both would have _rather_ run through fire. The burning of flesh would have been easier than this, easier than loving Yuri so dearly that they know all they can do now is walk away.

Without a word, the couple leave, nodding to Erica before disappearing down the hall, hand in hand. The small voice of the child they would never quite stop loving echoing around them, the sound fading with every step they take. It is amazing how far a child's giggle can carry. The elevator's ding drowns it out for only a moment, and watching the metal doors slide together feels like death sentence, the thick electronics at last covering up his voice. Throwing their world into painful silence.

In the quiet, Viktor wonders to himself if in three years without Yuri... Will he be half so bitter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
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>  "In which Viktor finally learns what it really means to be a father..."   
>    
>  ...by sometimes having to get the courage to walk away.
> 
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> We are so so so sorry about this, how sad it is and how late it is, please take this porn as recompense:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/9887963  
> Also here's where you can direct more hate mail: [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/)


	9. And Really, What Else Can I Ask For?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [T]* Because making out happened you're welcome in advance.
> 
> A chapter in which they go through some shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beans, somehow, after looking at Yuuri's name more than their own, spelled it with the wrong Kanji in the last chapter. (That's right, I'm calling you out!) So, though my attempted six years of learning have done little headway in becoming fluent, I have officially taken over writing the other languages for this fic. Please don't be afraid to point out to me if there are any mistakes in my Japanese (which I am at least fairly confident in...) BUT especially my Russian, as I've only been learning for a little over a month now. Also, all translations to foreign languages will be provided at the bottom.
> 
> Sorry, again, for being late. We hate to keep apologizing and making excuses, but these past few months have actually been pretty tragic for Beans and I, as may or may not be reflected in our writing. As you know, a few other issues have come up prior to this, but now my childhood dog whom I've only been without for six years of my life is struggling through her last stages of life. So it's been tough, emotionally and mentally, to write Dear Yuri. However, we are SO grateful to our following for sticking by us and giving us your support, we'd have likely dropped the project already due to the sheer struggle of finding the time week to week if it weren't for all of you pushing us along. Cheesy words aside, We hope you've all enjoyed this so far and will continue to enjoy the chapters to come, because while you've been encouraging us, it is still our job to deliver.  
> Love you all! - Kei & Beans

_Dear Yuri_

_I hope you are well._

_It's been a pretty nice week, sunshine and low winds, perfect for going out and playing in the sun. Makkachin has been requesting more time outside, all but dragging me out on walks. I somewhat wonder if it’s not so much the outdoors he wants, as the moment we step outside he whines and tugs on the leash until we agree to go to the park. Though he never quite seems satisfied when we go, sniffing the air as if looking for something. I expect he smells spring. I hope that’s it. I want to go for a drive, once it's warm enough for the convertible. I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not around, as there aren’t seat belts in the Chevy, which is beyond unsafe, for you at least._

_I feel a bit wary of the good weather, or good fortune in general. It feels a little mocking, as if something terrible will happen. Yuuri says I'm losing my pep. I guess I must be. I feel tired all the time, and all I ever seem to want to do is curl into bed and nap. My appetite has curbed a bit, and I find myself not so much pushing food away as forgetting it altogether. I remember to eat my vegetables though, and so should you! I’m sure I’m just getting old. Gross._

_Your father is downstairs making dinner. I can hear and smell it from my office. He’s taken to learning Russian cooking; borrowing a cookbook from Yakov and doing his best to learn from it. I think it’s because a few weeks back, you may recall, we invited Yakov over again and the dear old man made his normal kind of comment. One that I thought was very nice considering it came from Yakov, but to Yuuri it may have come off as a critique. I’m not complaining. The new flavors are surprisingly welcome. Filling and hearty as a meal should be. Yuuri complains it’s too heavy in his stomach, but he keeps making it anyway, so it can’t be nearly as bad as he makes it out to be. The recipes are larger than we normally can eat too, so for once we have left overs._

_Yuuri seems to be doing well, taking things in toe as he’s always been good at doing. I’m very proud of him, he’s the perfect example of an adult. Cool, collected, polite, and insightful. I, however, am not so, you keep that in mind when choosing a roll model. I’m doing fine. I’m getting by that is. I’ll live… I mean, this is just how life goes, right? Even if my silly heart can’t move on, I’m still able to keep myself moving forward. And really, what else can I ask for?_

_Ah, the most beautiful sound has wafted through my door. Yuuri’s sweet and tender voice calling me to dinner. I should go eat then. Something delicious I hope, the smell of whatever he’s made is tugging a nostalgic heartstring. It must be something my mama made me when I was little, or perhaps a dish I ate at a friends house. I can’t say for sure. There is my second call, a little exasperation in his tone now, I love Yuuri so much._

_I hope you have a good dinner, too. Remember to eat all your veggies, and do as Nanny tells you. Be good. Remember that I love you._

_До свидания!_

_Пока!_

_Люблю тебя, Юрий!_

_\- С уважением, Виктор_

  
  
  


Viktor taps his way down the steps, and into the kitchen, smiling at Yuuri as he enters the room. His smile seems small as if trying to be soft spoken, and Viktor's normally boisterous energy is lacking in a painfully calm way.

“What's my beautiful, talented, and patient husband made for us tonight?” Viktor's voice is chipper, looking down to Makkachin who has now leapt up on his tall frame. His thin fingers hold the curly fur of the dog’s face, kneeling to properly babytalk the adult dog.

“I can’t figure out the Russian name, but it’s like rolled chicken?” Yuuri explains. Viktor has tackled the dog to his back, scratching his tummy and making incoherent high sounds of endearment. Makkachin looks as if he was the happiest dog alive panting and kicking his hind leg in the air. Yuuri smiles over at his boys shaking his head. “I’ve gotten better at reading the Russian ingredients, but the recipe names still confuse me.” Viktor buries his face in Makkachin’s tummy blowing a loud raspberry, the sound making Makkachin wriggle kick his paws up, licking Viktor’s hair while trying to roll away. Viktor scoops the dog up into his arms, lifting him to his shoulder and petting his back furiously. He turns his gaze up to Yuuri, grinning.

“Let me see?” Viktor asks. Yuuri picks the book up from of the counter. Pulling out his translation notes from the book, he places them on the table, and then bends down for Viktor to see the recipe. Yuuri can see Viktor’s blue eyes look across the page, reading quickly what took Yuuri three times as long to suffer through. Viktor smiles, his eyes wrinkling a tiny bit at the corners. “Котлета по-киевски? That’s cutlet Kiev style.” Viktor looks amused, his hand patting Makkachin’s back. “That should be easy for you.” Yuuri turns the book back, looking over the page, reading it slowly, his lips moving as he follows each letter.

“I’ve never seen it before.” Yuuri dismisses. “So what is Kiev style?” Yuuri asks, placing the book on the table to add the words to his notes. Makkachin at last wriggles free, and dashes into the other room, allowing Viktor to stand and look over the neatly written notes; a marvel of Russian, English, and Japanese, all covering the page incoherently but making perfect sense, somehow, to Yuuri.

“Can’t help you there, I assume it’s how it’s prepared.” Viktor comments ‘helpfully’. Yuuri looks over the book, settling on the photograph of the chicken and tapping it.

“It’s not because it looks like a cave is it?” Yuuri asks. Viktor looks at the picture; a chicken breast cut in half, with a small cavity of herbs spilling out from the center. Yuuri is right, it does look and sound like a cave. Though the two words have nothing in common but the sounds; ‘Kee-v(ski)’ and ‘kay-v’. Yuuri is far too clever for his own good.

“Киевский, the ‘Kiev’ part of the name, refers to the capital of Ukraine. However, I almost like your explanation better.” Viktor beams, wrapping his arms around Yuuri. “You’re so clever!” He hums into Yuuri’s neck, nuzzling against it. A loose embrace, gentle but warm. Yuuri waits for more; praise, breezy kisses, perhaps a hand slipping under his shirt. But found a prolonged nothing, just a simple and easy hug, accompanying him as he writes. He doesn’t want it to end, doodling in the corner of the page to give him an excuse for not interrupting the soft moment. They both need these moments a lot more recently. Quiet and simple embraces, akin to setting a phone on a charger, bringing both a little extra energy, especially after a long day at work.

“I need to make sure the caves aren’t burning.” Yuuri at last says regretfully. He wants nothing more than to have Viktor cling all day. Yuuri knows there will time for that after dinner however, and that Viktor needs to eat something substantial more than he needs cuddles. Yuuri is quite sure all Viktor has had today is a cup of coffee for breakfast and a handful of trail mix for lunch,  tossed back like pills before moving back onto the ice to continue his lesson. It isn't a wonder why Viktor pulls away with a soft yawn, or why he always seems tired when he doesn't consume half of what he burns in a day. Viktor kisses Yuuri's neck, giving Yuuri a depressingly weak squeeze around the waist, then lets Yuuri off to prepare for dinner.

Viktor grabs plates and silverware, while Yuuri fishes the chicken cutlets out of the oil, quietly setting up for dinner in their own respective ways. Makkachin has made his way back to the kitchen, watching them sit down to food with envious eyes.

Viktor pulls out his phone absently clicking his way through the various apps as he plays with his food. Yuuri watches him fish around the food on his plate as if there was nothing particularly interesting on there, and internally sighs. Yuuri has always wondered how Viktor could stay so thin even when he ate like a horse. If Yuuri tried eating as much as Viktor does on a normal day, he’d gain weight by the minute. Yet Viktor seemed the same no matter what. Now Yuuri knew why. Viktor eats in moods. Happy means too much food, normal means healthy food, and depressed means hardly anything at all.

Yakov told him not to worry, that Viktor got in these moods now and then, lending him a thick cookbook to make up for the loss of calories. But Yuuri still can’t help himself. Viktor is one of the most important people in his life, and it hurts seeing him suffering. Eventually, He turns to his mother, asking her as discreetly as possible what to do, she suggested food.

“Lot’s of good food that he likes. Nothing cheers a man up more than good food.” She had instructed pleasantly. So, Yuuri set about doing just that; taking up Yakov’s cookbook and forcing himself to learn to read it.

Yuuri cuts into his chicken, taking a bite and making a mental note to pass the recipe along to his mother. The prep was a little excessive, but it yields a chicken tender as butter. She was always looking for nice recipes, especially Russian ones, as they had now started renting out the room Viktor had stayed in as a celebrity suite, and selling a few “Nikiforov approved!” specials.

Yuuri looks across to Viktor aimlessly scrolling through his phone, his fork poised for eating but his focus on his cell. Viktor’s hair is slightly too long, having missed one of his bi monthly hair appointments to teach a private lesson. The silvery bangs are only just an inch or so too long over his sapphire eyes, but for some reason Yuuri starts noticing this more than normal. This face he’s seen for years now has become almost second nature to him, nothing new, but now for some reason, Yuuri seems to notice it for the first time all over again.

Viktor’s slim nose, the shape of his eyes, the way his ears connected to his sharp jaw. Yuuri thinks back to the little things Viktor complains about himself, his wide forehead, the paleness of his lashes and brows, his face shape, how much his collar bone juts out. Things Yuui is still unsure of how Viktor can even begin to find fault in. He wishes nothing but the world for this man.

Viktor seems to notice the attention, looking up at Yuuri, raising his brows in question. Yuuri finds himself smiling, leaning on his hand.

“You’re not eating.” Yuuri says, gesturing to Viktor’s untouched meal. Viktor looks down as if he hadn’t realized it was there until just now.

“You’re right, how rude of me.” Viktor smiles, tucking his phone away and leaning over his food to dig in. Yuuri watches idly, taking another bite. Viktor’s hands, smooth and graceful, hold the fork and knife as if he is eating at the table of some royalty. His bangs sway with the gentle motion of his arm sawing away at the chicken, his stunning eyes trained on the meal with a calm and simple expression. Every breath about it is nothing new, Yuuri has seen it a thousand times. His lips parting for the food, pearly white teeth showing on the bottom, before sitting up as the food enters his mouth. Somehow this time it comes with such a warm feeling of relief and flattery. Viktor would eat, if only for Yuuri's sake.

His eyes look up, meeting Yuuri’s brazon gaze. His brows raise again, eyes flicking to the side.

“What?” Viktor asks.

“Nothing.” Yuuri answers, smiling to himself. Viktor looks unconvinced, chewing slowly, trying to guess why keeps Yuuri staring.

“This is delicious.” Viktor compliments, his lips turning into a small grin. “Mama Katsuki would like it I think.” Yuuri chuckles, lifting his head from his hand.

“I was just thinking that,” Yuuri takes up his utensils, cutting into the chicken and sliding it in the buttery filling. “It would need a Nikiforov spin on the name though.” Yuuri hums.

“Victory Keiv? Golden surprise?” Viktor brainstorms with a shrug. “You and your mother will think of something. You two are so clever,” the complement is given so offhanded, as if it should be expected by now. Yuuri still feels pride that his husband thinks highly of his mother. Viktor suddenly beams, “Ni-KEIV-forov cutlet?”

“Oh, ouch,” Yuuri cringes. “Thank you for your imput, but ouch.”

“Happy to help.” Viktor chuckles, knowing full well that Yuuri secretly loves his stupid puns.

“Will you help me translate and rewrite it for her?” Yuuri asks. Viktor's wistful smile comes easily.

“Of course dear.” Viktor knows the words fill Yuuri in a warm way, doing it just to make his fingers tingle with giddiness. Yuuri smiles down at his plate, feeling suddenly shy in Viktor's presents. They eat in silence, an impatient and spoiled Makkachin sitting under the table, his head resting on Viktor's knees, begging for food with his eyes. Yuuri has been trying to train the dog out of it, but found no matter what he does, Viktor is the problem. Even now, Yuuri catches a sliver of chicken falling from Viktor’s fork and into his lap, disappearing under the table with the happy sound of Makkachin’s collar jingling as he inhales the offering. He doesn't really mind, Makkachin doesn't whine for the scraps, and does mostly as he’s told, and when it comes to dogs what more can you ask for?

“We should just set him a chair at the table, and make extra food for Makkachin.” Yuuri teases, Viktor jumps slightly at being caught, though his initial surprise softens to a small smile.

“Makkachin would grow too accustomed to the meals, forgetting the sentiment behind the scraps.” Viktor points out.

“A meal would be more fulfilling.” Yuuri hums.

“What he wants… isn't healthy,” Viktor’s tone changes, his amused smile turning fake as he attempts to make a joke, only to feel the weight of it's underlying meaning. “He can have scraps, but too much would make it impossible for him to turn back. After all, how can one appreciate the scraps when they know a full meal?” Viktor isn't talking about Makkachin anymore. Yuuri feels a sense of almost dread in his chest as the implications of it slip into his heart. Yuuri isn't sure what to say anymore. It has been months now since they last saw Yuri, and these types of comments aren't new. Yuuri can never decide what to do. Part of him wants to smack sense into Viktor to make him just drop it already, only to have the rest of him resign into it, knowing he can't expect Viktor to get over anything, when Yuuri himself isn't over it either.

What can one do to make up for losing a child? If it is even fair to draw the comparison to that level. Yuuri could only imagine the hell that it must be to lose your own flesh and blood. Physically a part of you, something alive and beautiful that you created. Only to have cruel fate take it from you forever. Yuuri felt wrong even comparing them; meeting a child for a single month, loving him, then walking away. That couldn’t possibly compare.

They weren't on the same level. And yet, it genuinely feels like Yuri had died. His empty chair at the table still had books stacked in it for the few dinners they’d been blessed to have with him. Sitting on the mantle is a toy knight that’s still at the ready for his little prince to command him to battle. A tiny sock is placed on the dryer, where neither of them spoke about it, mutually agreeing that conversation would lead to them having to return the garment. Echo’s of life, the reminders of what can never be.

What do you say, when you've said it all already?

Yuuri chews over the thought for a moment. Ruling out conversations they could have. He turns his gaze up again to watch Viktor eat, the long, slow, almost mournful way he worked his food. Yuuri can't help himself but find it tragically beautiful, it is just... look at him. Sitting in perfect posture, hair in his eyes as he watches his food calmly, thinking deeply about something Yuuri couldn't guess. Viktor is handsome, but it is more than that. It's the sadness he feels, the way he never does his chores, how he takes too much food, buys things they don't need. It is his flaws, his temper, his overconfidence, and everything else that makes Viktor, Viktor.

How do you comfort someone you love so deeply?

They sit in silence, interrupted only by Makkachin’s little paws scratching against the floor as he shifts to an optimal begging position. Viktor obliges the silent puppy dog eyes with another sliver of chicken, served with a tiny smile, one Yuuri knows well, but the world saw very little of. It was little, crooked, and absolutely goofy.

“I love you.” The words slip from Yuuri without thinking to say them, but agreeing with the choice. Viktor’s eyes raise, his chin lifting to meet Yuuri’s gaze.

“I love you too.” Viktor beams. The reaction reassures Yuuri, and relaxing him. Even though Viktor is too sad to function, too depressed to eat, he still loves Yuuri, and always has the strength to give him a grin. Even if the world is falling apart around him, and Viktor feels helplessly lost, he looks to Yuuri with that very same smile that won Yuuri over in the first place. Yuuri realizes that there is nothing in the world he could say that Viktor could hate him for saying. That Viktor would love him no matter what. And that’s all Yuuri could want, all Yuuri needs to carry on every day with their shared burden.

“What should we do about it?” Yuuri asks, not quite sure what he’s up for, but really doesn’t care. If it could cheer Viktor up, Yuuri would recite The Mikado. Viktor blinks, his ears turning a tell tail pink, but simply shrugs.

“We’ve done everything on the checklist. Kissing on public television, moving in together, sharing a toothbrush, publicly groping each other on public television, getting married,” Viktor lifts his wine to his lips. “I don’t think there is much left to do beyond settling down and retiring in a cottage facing the sea.” He sips the red with a delicate grace that can only be taught.  

“A cottage by the sea, hm?” Yuuri chuckles.

“Of course, where else will we be able to start our puppy farm?” Viktor rubs Makkachin’s head, absently.

“Mm, true.” Yuuri nods, looking up to meet the sparkle of mirth in Viktor’s eyes. “It would be nice to live close to the sea again.” Yuuri stares into the deep ocean reflected in Viktor’s eyes, smiling at the calm ebb and flow behind them.

“Japan or Russia?” Viktor asks softly. Yuuri thinks this over, chewing softly to himself before deciding.

“We’ll ask the puppies.” Yuuri gives a firm nod. Viktor gives a proper laugh, shaking his head.

“They will of course say Japan, puppies after all have quite an eye for architecture and culture. It helps them grow you know.” Viktor confirms with a smile.

Yuuri thinks his next words over carefully. There is a elephant in the room, a band aid that needs to be torn off.

Yuuri gulps around the lump in his throat. It is hard enough trying to bring up tender subjects with people he hardly knows, but when it is someone he loves so damn much, a large part of him wants to let well enough alone. To let the subject lay under the radar and never be brought to light. And yet. This question is important. They need to talk about it if not to just bring it into their thoughts... Viktor normally brings up these kinds of things, so Yuuri has no real sense for when the timing is right. It has been months, but has it been enough months? Yuuri takes a small breath, letting it go.

“… Do you still want a puppy?” Yuuri can almost hear the painful ripping sound of the topic change, the subject being blatantly addressed for the first time in weeks. Viktor looks stunned almost, as if he isn’t ready for the question, hasn’t even thought about it at all. Yuuri wants to take his words back immediately, realizing that Viktor’s reaction means he hadn’t, in fact, though about it, he has brought up the subject too soon. Viktor isn’t on the same page, and now looks lost in the catch-up he has to do. Why had Yuuri said anything! “I- I mean if you don’t, we should tell the agency, s-so...” Yuuri attempts to backtrack only to step on his own feet, and fumble even farther into trouble.

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathes, his brows furrowing, looking unsure and upset on every level.

“I’m sorry, nevermind, I didn’t say anything.” Yuuri apologizes, feeling his face go hot and his heart drop to the floor. The air feels dry and suffocatingly thin. He’d hurt Viktor, why did he think it was so important! Why did he say anything at all! God he should have just let well enough alone and shut up. Viktor watches Yuuri intensely, his eyes ruling over the words, thinking it through.

“Don’t… I should be the one apologizing.” Viktor closes his eyes, slouching down to roll his fingers through his hair. “I’m an Idiot.”

“No you’re not! I’m the dumb one, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Yuuri says, wanting to rewind the conversation and punch himself for starting it.

“You’re not, you’re wonderful and thoughtful and beautiful. I’m the Idiot that can’t move on.” Viktor sighs, burying his face in his hands. “I haven’t even thought about it. I’ve been so caught up in myself.”

“Don’t say it like that, it’s not just you, I’m feeling the gap too. We _both_ haven’t been dealing with it very well.” Yuuri admits. “And that’s why I asked. Are we really ready for another round of that? Another child?” Yuuri gives a sigh, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. Viktor leaves a small silence, thinking to himself.

“What do you think? Are you ready?” Viktor asks calmly. Yuuri raises his gaze, shoving his glasses up, asking himself. Is he? After all this time, all the torment and fighting they had been through, is it really worth the risk to try again? Can they find a child who will fit them in quite the same way as Yuri had? Yuuri thought all the way back in November, when this whole thing started, remembered how afraid the idea of a child had been, and running the thoughts through his mind again. From the “I told you so’s” he gave himself, he thought the answer would be no.

His heart wouldn’t settle for that though, instead replaying a feeling he’d nearly forgotten, a warm and overwhelming joy he’d never quite experienced before. His heart reminded him why he’d finally decided to take that last leap with Viktor, why he decided yes, he wants very much to be a father. His heart played for him the light in Yuri’s eyes when he spotted him in that train station, the way his little legs fumbled to run, arms wide, the feeling of relief that overwhelmed Yuuri, how he could all but cry knowing the stubborn child was safe. Then a voice asking him “Are you his father?”

Yuuri remembers the pride that the title had given him. Father, protector, title given only to someone who put their own life aside to raise and protect a much smaller human being’s life. The responsibility of being the man who gave up everything out of love for a helpless creature. That was something not every man can truly earn, not every man can claim the right to. And Yuuri wanted to qualify. Wanted to take upon himself that armor, and help escort a small being into life, to teach them right and wrong. So, to Yuuri his answer is clear.

“I am,” Yuuri answers firmly, reaching his hand across the table for Viktor to take. “But I don’t expect you to be too. I just, want you to think about it, and to come to your own conclusion.” Viktor nods softly. Looking down at the table, watching Yuuri’s upturned and empty hand. His long fingers slide into the invitation, gripping Yuuri’s hand tightly. Silently telling him more than what he could with speech. He’s scared, he’s always going to be scared of trying something so emotionally draining again, but for Yuuri, Viktor will persevere. Viktor will try, he will be what he can. He leans forward, pulling Yuuri’s fingers to his lips and kissing them softly. A small welcome smile crosses his uncertainty.

“The roles seem to have switched. Now you’re begging while I stand on the fence.” Viktor chuckles at the irony, his expression dropping. “I think…” Viktor leaves a pause. Yuuri picks up the quiet.

“Keep thinking. I don’t need an immediate answer.” Yuuri assures, squeezing Viktor in return. Viktor gives a small smile, reflecting Yuuri’s own, letting out a sigh.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Viktor’s voice is so genuine and enamored Yuuri feels embarrassed by it, turning away to smile to himself.

“Won five consecutive gold medals.” Yuuri teases, looking back over his frames at Viktor, even though he could now only see a pale blur with strikingly blue floating spheres trained square on him. “You lucked out though. I wouldn’t have settled for only four. It’s bad luck.”

“Oh? And what about three?” Viktor asks with a welcomed laugh.

“Too common,” Yuuri announces, picking up his fork in his free hand, and trying to eat with his lesser dominance. “I would only settle for the best you know.” He casually takes a bite, doing his best to look nonchalant. Viktor smiles, taking Yuuri’s hand with both of his. Bringing it to his lips and kissing Yuuri’s thin wrist.

“It makes sense now, why I am your first and only.” Viktor hums. “Nothing but the best for Yuuri hm?”

“Yes. My standards are very high.” Yuuri agrees. Then, with a tilt of his head he continues. “But what was your excuse? How was it I came to be the great Nikiforov’s first.” Viktor seems to turn a pinker shade. They’d discussed it before, Yuuri knew the real reason, but loved the blushing shyness that the reminder pulled from Viktor whenever the subject was brought up.

“You waited for the best, I waited for an angel.” Viktor announces without an ounce of sarcasm, looking up at Yuuri as if he was just that.

“What gave you the idea that an angel would come down just for you? Isn’t that a little narcissistic?” Yuuri chuckles good naturedly.

“I didn’t, I just got lucky.” Viktor cooes. Yuuri snorts a laugh, pushing himself to his feet, to lean over the table and kiss his goofy husband, tilting his head up to look into the sea of blue.

“We both did.” Yuuri says, plain and simple.

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathes. Yuuri loves the way Viktor can always make his name sound like it is worth a fortune. As if the words are gold and diamonds.

“You should join me in the other room and watch a movie.” Yuuri hums, feeling as if he were to sit down again, Viktor would be too far away

“Dinner?” Viktor asks, touching Yuuri’s face as if it were the finest silk in the world.

“We can finish in there.” Yuuri whispers softly against Viktor’s lips, already doubting much eating would be going on.

“What do you want to watch?” Viktor sounds pleasantly amused, but whispers just the same as if too much noise would ruin the moment.

“Hm… To Russia, With Love.” Yuuri decides, at last leaning back, collecting his plate and moving it to the other room. “Feed Makkachin his real dinner while I set things up?”

“As you wish.” Viktor answers.

The two settle down, curled against each other in the optimal position for both eating, and being ridiculously addicted to cuddling. The evening rolled along smoothly, the movie playing as they eat, commenting here and there.

They both should have known better than to assume a movie is really all that would be done that evening. Whether it is Viktor's fingers tracing cheesy hearts into the curves of Yuuri’s thigh, or where Yuuri chose to balance his hand in Viktor's lap, but as expected, they soon found themselves buried in each other, smothering one another for air, only to be brought back in for another deep drag of each other.

Yuuri's hands were just making their wicked way across Viktor's chest, when the doorbell rang. Yuuri sits up with a gasp, abandoning Viktor with the  smooth and cruel instinct that came from being an innkeeper's son.

“Who could that be?” Yuuri asks, taking in quick and labored breaths. Viktor had to blink several times before it clicked in his brain what had happened.

“No one worth stopping for.” Viktor attempts, only to gain himself a glare. He sighs. “It feels like there is always something interrupting our make out sessions.”

“That's only because of how much time we spend actively making out. The only way to get ahold of us is by prying us apart.” Yuuri deduced, slipping from Viktor's lap and making his way to the door. Viktor slides into a sitting position, collecting the plates from the coffee table.

Yuuri runs his hands through his hair to comb any sign of what he was just dong from it, before tugging the door open. He isn't sure who he is expecting 7pm on Saturday night; a friend of Viktor's, or a neighbor in need of eggs perhaps. Regardless, none of the above would catch him dead with messy make out hair.

Whoever Yuuri was expecting, it wasn't who was at the door.

“Yuuri!” Yuri’s childish voice calls, his tiny arms wrapping their little way around his legs. Yuuri gasps, nearly falling over as he steps away from his assailant, he gasped because all he can think to say, his eyes locked onto the child he’d been comparing to being dead literally hours ago. Not that words could have been heard had he tried to say something. As the room filled with a loud crash, the sound of Viktor no doubt dropping a plate, followed by a thunder of footfalls as Viktor turns out of the kitchen. his eyes wide as he takes in the scene, looking both shocked and ready to bawl.

“Y-Yuri?” Viktor’s voice is a tone higher than it normally is, quieter too, the sound of it so pleading that both Yuri’s turned to respond to it. The smaller version seems to surge with life at his name, peeling his grip from Yuuri to toddle to Viktor with outstretched arms. Viktor doesn't so much kneel to accept the embrace as crumble into it, taking the child in his arms and cradling his golden locks, holding the child in a way that one would be hard pressed to take Yuri away from him.

“Why?” Yuuri managed after what felt like a dumbfounded lifetime. “How?” Yuuri sputtered. A voice from the hall cleared, politely guiding Yuuri's attention to the source.

“Sorry to disturb your evening, I, ah we, got a too little excited.” The brunette woman apologizes fiddling with the strap of her bag. It is Yuri’s nanny, looking like she was near the end of her work day, tired and ruffled, but her eyes were bright, a light behind them that Yuuri can't quite categorize.

“Excited for what?” Yuuri tentatively asks.

“Nikolai has decided to give you two a chance!” Erica enthuses, looking excited and giddy. Yuuri blinks, running the sentence through his head, certain he's translating it incorrectly. He tries desperately to find a more logical explanation, a way those words could fit together in a way that didn't bring him hope.

“He what?” Viktor squeaks, confirming for Yuuri there was no other translation, no better explanation. It hit Yuuri full force, slamming into him as if the nanny had swiftly hooked him in the jaw.

“He's giving you a chance!” Erica repeats. Yuuri reaches a hand out for the hall table, catching himself on it before his knees could give. Nearly half a year of waiting, pining, crying, and aching, did not prepare him for this. They had only just started the conversation about moving on.

“O-oh.” Yuuri breaths. Viktor is equally speechless behind him, clinging to Yuri so close, the child complains, trying to struggle free. “Okay?”

“Would you like to come in?” Viktor offers with his gigawatt smile turning on for the first time in over a month.

“Oh, right. We cannot stay too long, wouldn’t want to bother you, but there is some explaining that needs to happen,” Erica says. “I just wanted to tell you in person, and give you a chance to see him.” She nods towards Yuri.

“O-of course.” Yuuri stammers, mind still not wrapped around what’s happening, but polite instincts taking over as he guides her to their couch.

“So?” Viktor asks in return for a light jab in the rib, Yuuri’s eyes saying a stern ‘patience, dear.’ to his antics.

“So...Nikolai decided that he wants to give you guys a fair chance to prove yourselves to him. Says you got off on the wrong foot.” Erica smiles warmly.

“We did, and it’s all my fault and I am very ready to give everything I am for a second chance. Bless you, thank you so much!” Viktor would hug Erica if he wasn’t holding onto a toddler.

“Honey, it’s not entirely your burden to bare,” Yuuri repeats the words he’s been reassuring his husband of once a day at least. “But I agree, I am so appreciative of this, Erica, of all you’ve done for us.”

“Before you get your hopes up too high,” Erica sighs, smile melting into reserve. “Nikolai has one condition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit being that EVERYTHING IS OKAY!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> До свидания! - [Dasvidanya] Farewell  
> Пока! - [Poka] Bye-bye  
> Люблю тебя, Юрий! - [Lyublyu tebya, Yuri] Love you, Yuri  
> С уважением, Виктор - [Suvascheniem, Viktor] Sincerely/Faithfully yours, Viktor  
> Котлета по-киевски - [Kotleta po-kievski] Cutlet Kiev Style  
> Which also means that later when we have just "киевски" it's simply, [kievski] Kiev!
> 
>  
> 
> We just want to clarify that, "9 chapters out of 11" isn't a definitive ending point. We have the rest mapped out, but not fleshed out, so it isn't necessarily a guaranteed course of action. The final chapter count is flexible, so bare with us.
> 
>  
> 
> By the way, my new watercolor sketchbook came in the mail. You know what that means? I'm going to start conceptualizing illustrations for Dear Yuri--And by that I mean this should, in the near future, become an illustrated fic! Do you want to see my conceptual process and possible sneak peeks? Then head over to our [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/)! It has finally been set up, and is a place where you can chat us up about this wonderful show called "Yuri on Ice" -- don't know if you've heard of it but I 100% recommend -- as well as see mine and Beans art (If Beans even remembers to post it), and all the weird ass stuff that Beans reblogs and I have absolutely nothing to do with and I don't know them, what?


	10. Aches and Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long back and forth, at last, we get to hear what Nikolai has to say...

_Dear Yuri._

 

_If you are reading this, it means that I have passed away, but that everything will be fine._

_Getting old is an inevitability of life. Aging and creaky limbs are all just par for the course. You see people come and go, you learn to love and mourn. In your heart you feel it is hopeless sometimes, that there is really nothing on earth to do but curl up and cry._

_With age you learn that is not the case. You learn a time and a place for crying, for giving up and whaling that life is hard and unfair, but more importantly you learn that it is equally unfair to everybody. You learn that for every bad break up you have, there is a one sided divorce, every week you can't quite make rent, there's someone selling their last earthy belonging to have food, that every single thing you're feeling can be replicated and doubled across every heart in the world. Most of all, you learn that it's okay. You learn that life is tough that you'll hate a large portion of it and that you will cry a lot, but it's all okay. The world is full, the world is cruel, but you and your difficulties aren't wrong, or targeted to just you._

_Knowing this, you learn to take your bad days and drag them with you, to carry them to the end of the week, and start again. you learn to see how much lighter days are, how pretty and kind. In your trudge to the end, you start to see beams of light and little smiles. Your heart aches but softly now. You learn what makes the world in all her cruelty fade away, to become a tolerable burden. The laugh of a sibling, the giggle of an infant, rain in spring._ _  
_

_When you get old, you don't stop seeing misery and sorrow. You never get over your depressions or past regrets. Yet you smile. You smile because you know that at one point or another you can come to an end, that you are temporary. So why bother wasting time on the sad things?_

_For me, these thoughts feel almost rusty, my laugh a strange feeling. I knew a time once when a smile came this easily before, and cannot believe I let himself forget it. When life seemed at it very last moments, I'd panicked, and hadn't yet had time to calm down. Even as the years ticked by, I’ve let the worry nestle and fester, becoming a paranoia that I can now see consumed me more than I'd like to admit._ _  
_

_It seems almost strange, thinking on how quickly these years had passed. How fast my life went from happy grandfather to stressed guardian. How a single event, threatening not my life, but the future of someone I so dearly loved, could turn my easy going attitude into a tightly wound ball of protective stress._

_It's not as if I didn't know how to raise a child, I'd done just fine with my daughter. It wasn't easy, but I lived and learned. This was different, however, this was doing my best, without a guarantee of living to learn. I'd panicked beyond my own control, losing sight of what I was truly worried about, focusing on the fear, and it's perfect solution more than the realistic one._

_Then year after year of letting the stress and worry build forgetting myself and why I tried so hard for this child. At one point almost forgetting the point of all the fighting, why I had to try so hard even when I was so ill. Everyone was annoying, every sound an assault. Nothing was good, the weight on my shoulders souring my every thought and feeling._

_It isn't until I sat watching my clumsy grandson trying his hardest to spin like a ballerina, his blond locks flying around his head like a halo, laughing and jumping, saying something about skating, that I had realized where I went wrong._

_When you love something so tenderly and deeply that you forget every important lesson of life - forget how much you’ve lived to see, and instead seeing only the pain you’ve traversed - you tend forget the beautiful things in life, and dwell only on the ugly, focusing on protecting young eyes from all of it instead. When you love something so innocent, you look around you and see none of the joy in life, and only the pain that threatens to soil that purity and innocence._

_It's hard being old, because you are supposed to know everything, and have everything figured out, but you really don't. I hope one day you will learn these lessons, and that you can grow to be the great man I know you can be, even if I am not there to see it myself._

_Getting old is inevitable, experiencing pain is inevitable, but you must always remember the beauty in life, no matter how tough things become. You must not let yourself regret what you didn’t do in life when you are at it’s end, rather, seek what your heart yearns for so you may part from this life without that regret._

_If there is one thing I want you you understand, one lesson I can pass to you, it is to learn from your grumpy grandfather. Learn from my mistakes, and take on life with a smile, carry your tender heart gingerly, don’t shield it from life. Love your family, love the ground you walk on, love the life you have, and you’ll be guaranteed happiness._

_You’re loving and foolish grandfather,_

_Nikolai Plitsetsky._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Nikolai watches his grandson hop from foot to foot, explaining how it feels to skate, and Nikolai wishes he hadn't lost so many years.

“And then he flew! Like, this high!” Yuri leaps up as high as his little legs can propel him. “And spun too!” Yuri lands shakely nearly falling over, but catching himself last minute. Nikolai claps at the effort, proud even if he had fallen flat on his tush.

“That was very good Yuri,” Nikolai says. Yuri beams with pride stepping in small circles and dancing across the carpeted floor of the hospital. Even now, Nikolai cannot imagine something bad happening to this child. Still young enough to think the world is a sweet as he sees at his tiny height. How can anyone allow the purity to leave those bright eyes?

“Really? See I told them so! but they said it was girly.” Yuri says blowing bangs out of his eyes.

“Who are ‘they’?”

“The kids in the orphanage, the older boys say it's for girls but it can't be, if Yuuri does it.” Yuri gives a firm nod.

“Aren't you sad or angry they said those things?” Nikolai asks.

“Yes, but they're dumb, so they say dumb things,” Yuri explains, climbing up onto the bed to grab his stuffed tiger. This is when it really hit Nikolai what he was doing is wrong. If a child can understand the concept of bullies, and how to ignore them, then that same child could handle a lot more than even Nikolai could at this point.

Yuri picks up Nikolai's love of skating, and spoke often of how he would grow up to do it all the time and be the best the world would see. They’d sit and watch TV, finding skating now and then, and Yuri would bounce off the bed moving as close as he could, acting out the moves the best he could. The child likes it so much, that some days he would come running in with a crayon drawing of himself on blue squiggles.

It was really only a matter of time before Nikolai had to cave. At least a little.

“I’m willing to sign Yuri as a foster to Yuuri Katsuki and his husband, but I have conditions. Yuri spends weekends with me, and they give him skating lessons for free, and after each lesson Yuri has lunch with me.” Nikolai says. Erica blinks, then a smile widens on her face.

“I’ll tell them your offer!” She seems nearly as excited as Yuri.

Of course they accepted the offer, why wouldn't they? It was what they wanted after all, a skating family. Nikolai figured a few things would come out of this;

First and foremost, Yuri was still his, and he could take him away at the drop of the hat. Should Nikiforov lay a finger on Yuri, emotionally or physically damage him in any way, Yuri would be out of there in the blink of an eye.

Second, Yuri could have what he’d always spoke of most, he could skate and be safe in a place where Nikolai knew he’d be okay.

And Third, it would allow Nikolai to prove that he was, and still is, right about the skating pair. It would prove that in the time it took the papers to go through, Yuuri and Viktor could get cold feet, change their minds about adoption, and Nikolai would stop being the bad guy.

What Nikolai didn't expect, however, was the couple to pick up on the offer without a missed beat. Nikolai expected them to start teaching Yuri the moment he was in their walls, but instead, they took time from their schedules and squeezed in Yuri the very next day. Nikolai couldn't believe it at first, wondering at how hard they worked to seem like good people. Nikolai doesn't buy it, but if it means Yuri is getting the lessons he wants, then so be it.

The schedule was a little tricky, as Erica was not an escort of Yuri, so she more often than not had to drop Yuri off at the rink, and from there, would be picked up by Erica and driven to the hospital for lunch with Nikolai. She was too busy for this, and always looked too stressed to be doing this. Nikolai wanted to offer to help the poor woman but couldn't do more than call a cab, something a six year old shouldn't be riding on his own anyway.

He was beat to chivalry the second week of the new schedule. Nikolai sat reading a the same book he’d read a thousand times, when a familiar giggle filled the hall. Immediately, Nikolai’s mood improved, a smile covering his face as he watched the door spring open. His beautiful grandson darts in, leaping onto the bed, and bounces a little.

“You'll never guess what I learned today!”

“A quad loop?” Nikolai asks with a warm chuckle. Yuri laughs shaking his head vigorously.

“Nooooo.” Yuri covers his smile with his hands. It was then Nikolai looked up to thank Mrs. Huss, only to double take at the person standing where she normally would.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I spoke with Mrs. Huss. She was incredibly busy today, so I offered to drop him off.” Yuuri Katsuki bows awkwardly, holding Yuri’s backpack in his hands. “Here, I’ve got to go. Be good Yuri,” Katsuki says. He placed the bag on the chair by the bed, backing out, bowing again before waving, and at last leaving.

Nikolai couldn't help being suspicious. Though it was harmless enough, it became routine regardless of what Nikolai thought. He waited every day for Katsuki to start drilling him as he had the last time they met, but it never happened. Katsuki simply came to drop Yuri off, and then he would leave with little more than a bow. Even when Viktor was the one to drop Yuri off, there was no sign of trying to get on Nikolai's good side.

If they did speak, it was as a coach would to the parent of their student. They never mentioned the fostering, or pressed him on why he’d changed his mind, almost as if treading on eggshells. Nikolai Didn't particularly like the image it made of him. Like a witch locking Yuri in a tower, instead of a loving and cautious grandfather.

At last Nikolai broke the pattern.

Yuri came bouncing in, followed quietly by Katsuki.

“I did my very first jump! And I didn't even fall!” Yuri proclaims proudly pouncing onto the bed as if to prove he wasn't lying.

"That's great! I bet it was scary," Nikolai says, patting the blond tuft of hair.

"No, I never get scared! It was easy "Yuri puffs his chest out proudly. Nikolai notes the not terribly subtle smile Katsuki wore as he watches the child brag, but hiding it away the moment he noticed Nikolai's gaze.

"Tell me, how my Yura is doing." Nikolai says. Katsuki swallows hard pushing his glasses up.

"He's excelling quickly, both on the ice and -" Nikolai cuts Katsuki off.

"Sit," Nikolai says. Katsuki blinks, before taking his seat by the bed and continuing awkwardly fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Um, he's very lively in ballet."

Now it's Yuri's turn to interrupt, "It’s basically the same thing! When you jump in ballet, you gotta learn to keep balance. Ice skating is just more balance!" Yuri slides off the bed to show off his little leap, Katsuki gave a polite clap smiling at his student.

"Yuuri teaches you ballet, is that right?" Nikolai asks. Yuri nods.

"And when you spin, you've gotta keep your head in one place, like this!" Yuri instructs, demonstrating as he has done every time he visits.

"Do you teach ballet to the other students?" Nikolai asks Katsuki. The question clearly throws Katsuki off just as much as the invitation to sit.

"No, the other students normally have a separate tutor..." Yuuri pauses, looking over Nikolai's expression, and swiftly adding, "If it makes you uncomfortable, Viktor and I could find a proper tutor for you."

"I couldn't afford one," Nikolai says, with a sniff. His medical expenses eat up more than he is willing to admit, after all. However, Nikolai would be willing to put his own health on hold to afford Yuri a ballet instructor if he needed one.

"Viktor and I would cover it, it's part of Yuri's training after all," Katsuki says.

"I like Yuuri better." Yuri intersects, at last noticing he's being ignored and remedying the neglect by taking his grandfather’s arm and tugging on it softly.

"Then Yuuri it is." Nikolai smiles at Yuri.

"He's better than Viktor, too. Yakov said so," Yuri proclaimed proudly. Nikolai gives Yuri's head a pat, looking over to Katsuki.

"Not as good as you will be, little one." Nikolai praises. Katsuki smiles a little at that.

"You've got the kind of passion it takes to be a top skater. All that's left is practice." Katsuki encourages. Yuri beams prouder than a kitten.

"He'll need to work hard in other things, as well."

"Do you mean school?"

"Yes."

"W-well... We've only just recently had time to look into the schools, If there is any you'd prefer we can arrange it," Katsuki timidly offers. Nikolai shakes his head softly.

"I'd like him to finish college, neither myself nor his mother ever did." Nikolai says. Yuuri's expression changes to a soft sadness.

"That's... That can be arranged." Katsuki shifts, bowing his head a little.

"Have you completed your degree?"

"Yes."

"It's not impossible, juggling both, is it?"

"It can be challenging, but Yuri is smart, and the three of us will be there to help."

"Three?"

"Viktor, myself, and you. If you're able." Katsuki fidgets, looking terrified to say the wrong thing.

Nikolai hesitates at the implied offer, then with a firm shake of his head, "It's getting late, go home." Katsuki blinks, getting to his feet.

"Ah, yes, I'll... Sorry,” Katsuki bows. “Be good Yuri." Katsuki puts Yuri’s bag in the chair, walking to the door, where he stops. Looking back, he bites his cheek. Nikolai gives a challenging expression, as Katsuki looks as though he is mulling something over. Nikolai dares him to say it, whatever it is. Katsuki clears his throat looking nervously at the floor.

"I um, I asked the nurses, if it would be possible, for you to leave the hospital for a few hours. They say it's possible, if you're willing." Katsuki runs his hand through his hair. "So, I thought, you'd like to watch... Yuri practice. every few months we have a recital too..." Katsuki's voice trails off. "If you'd like...."

"I could show you my new jump!" Yuri wriggles in his seat, giggling.

"I'll think about it."

"Thank you, Yuri would like it I think."

"I would!"

"Sorry to take up so much time, it's good to see you Ojiisan. Yuri." Then Katsuki was gone. Nikolai doesn't know Japanese, but that word kept popping up the longer they spent time together. He felt like it was said too tenderly to be an insult, however.

 

 

* * *

 

  
A month later Yuri had his first recital, and with a wheelchair and oxygen tank, Nikolai watched the whole thing. Yuri is still young, and an amature, but he skated with all his heart. His first performance was to a short folk song, about a forest of fairies. He doesn't know many technical moves, mostly skating a simple choreography with the occasional hop of a jump, and short little spins. Yuri performs it with a big happy smile, though.

After that, a few other children perform. Some at a higher level the Yuri, and others at about the same, but none smiled quite as brightly as Yuri. The second half was mostly older kids, and a few duets, then the recital was officially over. Familie are going home, talking to Katsuki and Nikiforov, collecting their children, and then filing out, one by one. Yuri makes a beeline to Nikolai, talking nonstop about how much fun he's had.

Nikolai could swear Katsuki's hair was brighter, his eyes shining with life. Nikolai has a lot of things wrong, but he isn't blind.

  
He is found by Katsuki later, Nikiforov still talking with an overzealous parent.  
  
"Well done Yuri. See, in the end it wasn't too scary."  
  
"It was fun!" Yuri jumps in place.  
  
"I'm glad." Katsuki smiles proudly. "It's getting late, though."  
  
"No! I want to skate more!" Yuri whines. Katsuki gives a patient laugh.  
  
"Aren't you sleepy?"  
  
"No!" Yuri huffs, putting his foot down firmly. It is then that Nikiforov swoops in, sliding his hand across Katsuki’s back and pulling him to his hip.  
  
"I think that was such a successful recital that we should celebrate by eating out." Nikiforov winks at Yuri, who looks lost at the idea of a restaurant. "What do you say, Nikolai?" Nikiforov gives Nikolai a soft smile, almost apologetic. "Think you can make it? If not we might be able to sneak in dinner to your hospital room."  
  
"I... can manage a restaurant."

It is very civil, Yuri mostly chattering away until his dinner came, then he was too busy shoveling food in his mouth to talk. Nikiforov politely held his tongue, Katsuki doing most of the small talk for the three of them. Mostly just about the weather and such. Katsuki told stories when he'd talk, and occasionally he would freeze, turning to Nikiforov, who would then guess a few words before Katsuki remembered the translation.

It was a fascinating dinner, yet not particularly eventful. Mostly it was just strange. Eating food, and having company, as if he isn’t sick at all.

Yuri fell asleep on the car ride home, missing Nikolai's goodnight kiss. Nikiforov helped Nikolai from the car, Katsuki opening the wheelchair for him. Together they walk him to the front desk where a nurse came to collect him.  
  
"You don't need to try so hard," Nikolai says. "buttering me up won't change my mind." The couple hesitate then Nikiforov gave an easy laugh.  
  
"You can't police kindness." Viktor smiles softly, shaking his head. Nikolai gave a scoff, annoyed at the couple, and hating them just a little.Nikolai hadn't been able to leave the hospital, much, people always wanting to monitor him just in case. He’d asked for this, it was assurance he’d have the right attention and equipment on hand in the occasion that things went wrong. However, he was free to move about, able to use a wheelchair at worst, a cane at best.

It had been a long time since he'd seen Yuri, and along with that, it had been a long time since he’d wished Yuri a happy birthday. Yuri wasn’t a difficult child to please, even though it seems that way at times. Yuri would hate any gift you gave him, but a week later, he could not be parted with it. Which meant gifts would be easy. In theory.

Yuri had only wanted one thing from what Nikolai could tell, and that was to skate. A gift Nikolai had bartered for, and frankly one he wished had a whole lot less Nikiforov involved. Yuri was beyond pleased with the gift, it really and truly was all he ever wanted. And that made Nikolai a little annoyed. Skating was a phase, all kids have them. Nikolai knew Yuri before this, was his grandfather for god’s sake, he knew how to make Yuri smile better than those two skaters ever would.

So leading up to Yuri’s birthday, Nikolai instructed a nurse to walk with him through the hospital. He was told that wouldn't heal his leg, nor would it matter much to strengthen his legs just for more sitting, but he didn't care. He focuses on walking a straight line, and avoids limping, no matter how much it pinched to put weight on his leg. He asked for a phone book as well, adding to the confusion of the staff even more. They didn't matter though.

On March 1st, after skating lessons at noon, Yuri was dropped off for lunch with Nikolai as always. He bounced into the room beaming and leaping onto the bed, already reporting the lesson back before he hit the sheets. Katsuki lingered by the door, trying to read the mood. One glare and the polite man was gone with a bow.

Nikolai let Yuri ramble on for a little, before putting his hand on Yuri’s knee smiling broadly.

“Yurachka, do you know what today is?” Nikolai could see the little cogs in his grandsons brain change focus, settling on the new conversation.

“Wednesday?” Yuri asked, looking unsure. Nikolai nodded slowly.

“Do you know what month it is?” Now Yuri had to think. He sat back putting his finger to his chin in the same way Nikiforov did. Nikolai tried not to scowl at the getsure.

“It's February,” Yuri says, with a firm nod. Nikolai reached over to his bedside table, opening the drawers and pulling his calendar out. Flipping it to February then laying it out upon the bed for Yuri to see.

“Let’s see, what day is today?” Nikolai placed his finger on the calendar, tapping the days down. “Sunday, Monday, Tuesday…” he flipped the page tapping the first of march. Yuri sat up eyes wide.

“Wednesday! That's my birthday!” He exclaimed. Nikolai took pride in the fact that had Katsuki and Nikiforov known a thing about Yuri, they would have spoiled this surprise. Luckily, unlike Nikolai, those two knew nothing about Yuri.

“That's right, and what did we always do for your birthday?” Nikolai asked, grinning. Yuri thought for a minute before clapping.

“Big piroshkis!” Yuri was bouncing on the bed a little in sheer enthusiasm. Nikolai nods.

“The very biggest.” Nikolai agrees with a laugh. Yuri looks around as if expecting them to pop up at any time. “There not here little one, we have to make them first.” Nikolai pulls the covers back, wearing not the hospital clothes, but his own, pulling his cap from the table. “And to make them, first, we have to buy the ingredients, yes?” Nikolai felt the pressure in his leg with every step, forcing his walk to be level. He could take it though, no pain just yet. Or at least not much. “Grab your bag, we have to go.”

Yuri obliged quickly, hopping off the bed and throwing it on his back. “We’re not allowed to have very many Piroshkis at the orphanage! And they are always small,” Yuri began, a tangent that lasted from Nikolai's room to the front doors, one that, for once, didn't revolve around his teachers. Nikolai listened to every word with a smile. There was more to Yuri, things that only family could possibly know.

Nikolai had called ahead for a cab, asking for the driver to take them to the nearest supermarket, where Nikolai asked Yuri if he remembered the ingredients in piroshkis, letting him recite them. Then together, one by one, let him hunt them down. Yuri is alarmingly good at disappearing, Nikolai catching himself running around in search of the menace at least three times, each time more frantic. Yuri is healthy, and Nikolai is not, it only makes sense that a toddler could outrun a cripple with an oxygen tank. It was a lot harder to keep up with a kid than Nikolai remembered it being.

They finished the trip somehow, though, collecting all the ingredients they needed. Then they paid, and headed back to the cab. Nikolai gives an address, then relaxed into his seat, trying to force his body to calm, breathing as harshly as he could without frightening Yuri. For a moment he thought to change plans completely and go back to the hospital, until Yuri pushed himself up in his seat pointing out the window to their destination.

“That's our house!” Yuri laughed, bouncing a little in his chair. Nikolai brought Yuri to a small apartment complex, the self same one Yuri had grown up in after his parents passed away. It was the apartment Nikolai still owned, though he had been well enough to live in it only a handful of times in the past year. He kept it in hopes of a miracle, or perhaps because it was all he’d had that reminded him of Yuri.

The apartment was on the second floor, and Nikolai could feel every step. He knew he shouldn’t push himself, but pressed on, watching his grandsons excitedly dash up to the familiar stairs, and smiling because he knew this was something that skating couple could never have over him.

Nikolai unlocked the door to his small dusty apartment, the kitchen a stone throw from the TV room. The bedrooms are down the hall, split by size, the bigger belonging to Nikolai and the smaller, though chiefly untouched in years, is Yuri's. The moment the door was open, Yuri ran to his room, disappearing from sight. This time, though, Nikolai knew wherever he’d run off to, Yuri would be safe.

It had felt like eternity getting here, but at last they had made it. Nikolai lifted the bag to the counter, bracing himself against it to breathe. It wasn't much longer he’d need to be on his feet, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could take.

He thought to himself to bring a chair to the kitchen, he could cook from a chair just fine, and then if he needed a nap as well he could turn on the tv and let Yuri watch, just like they use to.

Things were not the same as they use to be however. Nikolai bent to move the chair, pulling the weight of it with both arms, the effort of which beyond what he was used to. His body then decided it had enough, and with a shock of pain, Nikolai was on the floor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nikolai was only partly conscious during what happened next, and still unsure of what exactly had happened. He heard Yuri talking excitedly, then suddenly going silent. Nikolai could remember the last time this had happened, the quiet continued for hours until at last police came to find Nikolai. Yuri would leave. He had always been the kind to run from his issues, and with this traumatic scene playing before him again, he would no doubt run til the sun set.

Mentally, Nikolai begged Yuri not to leave. That he didn't have time, he needed to get to the hospital now, he couldn't wait even one hour, his body wouldn't manage it. He was as good as dead. After all that careful planning he was here again, knocking at heaven's door, and abandoning Yuri to be completely alone in life.

And for what? Why had he done something so risky, why on earth had he left the safety of his bed, to sneak out without telling anyone. Who could have helped him now? Why had he decided it was a good idea? Was it really just to give Yuri a good birthday? Better than those skaters could? Had he thrown away his life just so he could prove he was better than them, that Yuri belonged with him, and not them?

Nikolai remembered hearing a tiny voice little and scared.

_Yuuri help!_ pause. _Grandpa…._ Pause. _I… I don't know what to do, I have to get help! I have to go look for help!_

Nikolai had killed himself to be better than Katsuki and Nikiforov, because he didn't want to be replaced. Because he had lost his daughter, and nearly lost his grandson, he had sacrificed everything to raise Yuri. Yet, because of some fancy skating trick, Yuri favored complete strangers. Of course he would be upset, of course he would be irrational. The only family left in his life was a toddler, and they had distracted him away from Nikolai with cookies and milk.

_I can't! I can't!_ Pause. _I have to find help!_

It was infuriating… but now, lying here with every part of his body twitching, he wished he’d been less stubborn. Of every family looking to adopt Yuri, non fit so well as Kats-- Yuuri and Viktor. They even willingly stuck around to be yelled at and insulted by Nikolai for the sake of Yuri’s happiness. Had Nikolai been more polite to them, or just let his pride as a guardian and grandfather go for just a moment, it would have been very likely that Yuri wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have had to go through the same trauma as he had all those years ago. If Nikolai could have just let Yuri go, then Yuri would have had a truly happy birthday.

It was now Nikolai realized exactly what needed to be done. He prayed for one more day, just one more day to make it right. Then it no longer mattered if he lived or died.

Nikolai remembers thinking that he was reaching his end, when suddenly the little voice began reciting skating techniques. Naming one by one shakily, pausing as if to think before saying another. After a bit he seemed to run out of names for skating, and began naming ballet positions. Then from there, the alphabet. It was as if he were distracting himself, or maybe… someone else was helping him to. Nikolai felt glad that he was speaking, the voice made him feel like things might be okay, even if he died here.

Suddenly, he hears the world invaded buy a new sound, an older voice, accented in a strangely familiar way. Words were said, but they were unclear. The smaller voice let out a sob, then a finger met Nikolai's neck.

_He’s going to be okay. Don't cry, It's okay._

Arms slide under Nikolai, slowly lifting him from the ground, moving him around the room. He realizes his head is resting on a shoulder, as the voice is much louder now, “Here, give me that to hold. Pick up those keys. Can you lock the door? Good job.” The words didn't make sense, but they were comforting, even to Nikolai. Soon he was no longer in the arms of the man, but laying back in his bed, blinking up at the familiar hospital ceiling.

The room was quiet except for the steady beep of his own heart. Nikolai went to sit up, only to have a hand press down on his chest.

“Don't move. I’m supposed to call a nurse when you wake up.” Nikolai blinked to the voice, turning his head until he saw the familiar dark hair of Yuuri Katsuki. “Stay right there. I’ll be back.” Katsuki nodded a bow, turning to leave. Nikolai reached a hand out trying to stop him, his voice felt and sounded tired.

“Where’s… Yuri?” Katsuki stopped, to give Nikolai a shy smile.

“Viktor took him to the children's ward, I can get him for you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Yes?”

“Give it to me, then get the nurse.” Katsuki looked as if he was going to argue, but without hesitation he passed his phone to Nikolai, and left the room.

About fifteen minutes later, after a proper scolding from the nurse who always said he was trying to kill himself, Mrs. Huss arrived carrying her bag, and looking excited.

“Wh-whats going on?” Her warm brown eyes surveyed the room, noting that Nikolai looked more like hell than he normally did. Katsuki stayed politely quiet, letting the nurse explain.

“He decided to go on an outing without telling anyone.” She sighs.

“It doesn't matter, did you bring everything?” Nikolai interrupts weakly. Mrs. Huss nodded. “Pull that table over here, then give me the papers.” She moved to do as she was told, taking out the papers he’d asked her to bring.

Then, Katsuki spoke up, “Should I go?”

Nikolai looked up from his documents, blinking slowly. “How can you sign the documents if you leave?”

Katsuki furrowed his brows, before asking. “Do you mean to say… I’m signing those papers?”

“You are if you and your stupid Husband want to adopt Yuri.” Nikolai said, unable even then to keep the bite out of his tone. Katsuki's eyes widened, his mouth opening and then closing, his brain clearly rebooting.

“Does this mean...?” Katsuki began, getting cut off as Nikolai gave a scoff.

“It means exactly as I said.” Nikolai flipped through the pages, reading through to clarify that the information Mrs. Huss wrote was accurate.

“Should I get Viktor?”

“He’s going to be a guardian too, isn't he?” Nikolai grumbled. Katsuki leapt to his feet, turning to throw open the door and dash out. He hears the squeak of shoes, Katsuki reappearing in the doorway, thrown into a deep bow.

“Hai,” he pants, “ari- th-thank you!”

“Go along quickly, before I change my mind.” Nikolai threatens, though he knows he’s not about to. Katsuki nods, and once out of sight, Nikolai goes back to reading. He could feel Mrs. Huss’s glare, though, from where she sat at the foot of the bed.

“Are you sure Nikolai?” Her voice was quiet and calm.

Nikolai lets out a huff. “I wouldn't have asked if I wasn’t sure.”

“I meant about the papers, you said specifically not to bother bringing anything about visitation.” Nikolai doesn't bother answering, focusing on the paperwork instead. She and the nurse exchanged looks, which Nikolai pretends not to see.

It was maybe five minutes before Viktor appeared, practically sliding past the door from sheer speed.

“Is it true!” Viktor exclaims more than asks, panting and clambering into the doorway as if he’d run up the stairs and taken them by two. Nikolai finished the last curl in his name, then passed the documents to Mrs. Huss.

“Yes, he’s yours,” Nikolai leaned back, closing his eyes. He couldn't see, but he heard movement, then suddenly was crushed in perhaps too tight of a hug. Nikolai got an overwhelming whiff of aftershave and expensive cologne, which could only mean the assailant was Viktor. “Get off!” Nikolai barked, doing what little a feeble man could do to shove an athlete off him. Viktor did as he was told immediately though, grinning dumbly as he pulls away.

“Thank you isn't enough to describe how grateful I am.” Viktor says, clutching Nikolai's hands in both of his own, looking into his eyes. Nikolai looked deep into Viktor's eyes as well, searching those seas of blue for assurance on his decision. “I promise I will never let anything hurt Yuri! I swear I will raise him to be as great a man as you one day.” And that was too much, Viktor didn't need to say that. He didn't have to be so happy, he didn't have to promise anything. That, most of all, made Nikolai want change his mind.

Those promises sounded an awful lot like lies told by a man who's never had children. Viktor wasn't a father, he didn't know a damn thing about Yuri, and Nikolai had been right the whole time. But once Nikolai had thought that, his mind pulled out a slide of Yuri adamantly talking about his lessons that day, and the way Viktor smiled proudly, and the tone he used to call to Yuri at his recital. He saw how caring Viktor was, and still kept the apology card from Viktor in the bottom of his bedside table, beneath his will and goodbye letter to Yuri. Nikolai shut his eyes, convincing himself that Viktor, while clumsy with words, is definitely the kind of man to show affection through his actions. He then reminds himself of Yuuri Katsuki, and that between the two, he could not have a better offer elsewhere.

Erica sat with Viktor, going over the papers just as Katsuk returned with Yuri on his shoulders. Nikolai didn't meet Yuri’s eyes, leaning back and listening to Erica’s spiel.

“As soon as your papers go through - which, with this signature,  could be less than a year - you two will have sole custody over Yuri Plisetsky.” Viktor looked like he was going to cry, or hug Nikolai again. Katsuki pulled the toddler from his shoulders, placing him to the ground. Yuri walked over to Nikolai's bed, where as always, he crawled up onto the sheets and scooted directly next to Nikolai.

“Sole custody?” Katsuki asked, looking to Viktor, the two exchanging a few words in English before Katsuki furrowed his brows. “What about Nikolai?” Erica tried her not to glance over to Nikolai, pushing her glasses up.

“Nikolai didn't request any visitation.” The words washed over the couple, before Viktor turned to Nikolai.

“You... don't want to visit?” The question was heavy and polite, catering to the young audience. Nikolai turned to look out the window.

“I’m just his grandfather. I doubt I’ll even be around by the time you get your papers through.” Nikolai could feel Viktor getting ready to interrupt, and turned to him with a firm expression, “don’t argue, Nikiforov, or I will use what little strength I have in my arms to personal shred that document.”

“You don't want to be a grandfather?” Viktor's words were tight and calculating.

“I signed away that right to you. I have no right to be near him in my state,” Nikolai answered cooly, his expression calm. Viktor still looked as if he wanted to say something, and from experience he knew if that was the case, than nothing would stop the tirade about to fall from his mouth. Katsuki put a hand on Viktor's shoulder, seeming to calm him a bit.

“Nurse, could you take Yuri downstairs to help you get Nikolai's lunch?” Katsuki asked politely. The woman looked up as if she herself had forgotten she was there.

“Oh, yes, I can.” She said, stepping forward, “come on little Yuri.” Yuri folded his arms looking at her suspiciously.

“Are we going to get the yucky food, or the good one?” Yuri asked.

“You can pick whatever you like for him. How's that?” The nurse bartered. Now Yuri was excited, and bounced up, running to the door. The nurse follows after looking back briefly before closing the door.

The room became very empty without Yuri. It always did. Nikolai knew that the choice to give up Yuri entirely would leave him with nothing to live for, that in this silence he would die and not a soul would care. Yuri would be to busy with his new family to even think twice about Nikolai, and soon forget him altogether. Katsuki sat on the arm of Viktors chair, facing Nikolai.

“We want to thank you so much, Nikolai, we could not be more grateful to you,” Katsuki bows his head politely, “however…” he takes a deep breath, meeting Viktor's eyes. The two seem to have a silent conversation until Viktor bows his head, reaching his hand up to where Yuuri’s palm still rests on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

Viktor looked up to Nikolai, a pained expression on his face, as he continued Yuuri’s sentence. “We cannot accept that offer.” Nikolai narrowed his eyes, glaring at the two.

“What do you mean…” Nikolai could feel the venom in his own tone. What more could they possibly want from him! Had Viktor chosen now to lose interest? Now that he made it easy, they weren't interested?

“Well, the thing is,Yuri loves you more than he loves us,” Yuuri says. Nikolai gives an audible scoff at the statement. That’s a load, anyone with eyes could see who Yuri favors, who Yuri begged to learn skating from to spend all his time with. “It's true! He never stops talking about you!” Nikolai could feel the argument he was forming in his mind - to convince them to shut up and take his child - melt away.

“He does?” Yuuri and Viktor look at each other in confusion. Nikolai himself was surprised by his question. Viktor sat forward.

“Yuri talks about you all day long. He’s told us about how you use to take him for car rides to the ocean, and how before everything happened you were going to take him to adopt a cat.” Viktor explained. Yuuri spoke up.

“He told me he skates to make your proud. When he's having a hard time with a trick or balance we advise him to take a break, and he refuses. He always tells us a Plisetsky never gives up.”  

“Whenever he has a free minute, he is always telling the other kids about you…” Viktor adds, “he's always talking about how strong you are and brave…” Viktor smiles a little weakly. Yuuri nods solemnly.

“So… as kind an offer as this is… We’ve talked about it, and we just cannot take Yuri from you,” Yuuri sighs, squeezing Viktor's hand, “no matter how much we love him, we want what is best… and for him that will always mean having you in his life, for as much time as you’re capable of.” Viktor's eyes are on the floor again, looking devastated, but he didn't argue.

Nikolai was speechless. This whole time, Yuri hadn't been skating because of Viktor and Yuuri, but instead because of Nikolai. Suddenly it made sense why every day Yuri told Nikolai exactly what he was learning and how hard he was training. Not to impress Viktor, or to make Yuuri proud, but to make Nikolai happy. Because Nikolai had always shared skating with Yuri, the child took it upon himself to become a skater for Nikolai.

“I’m sorry, Nikolai… I know how important it is for you to find Yuri a good home… and if we can help in anyway…” Yuuri started, but Nikolai cut him off.

“No, I'm sorry… are you saying that you’re not adopting Yuri Because he likes his grandfather?” Nikolai asks sharply. Yuuri looked to Viktor, who gave a huff.

“Yes, that's exactly what we are saying.” Viktor rose his gaze, his bangs falling in his eyes.

“Well then. I guess you better have left me there on that floor.” Nikolai snapped.

“W-what?” Katsuki stuttered

“Better he loses a stupid grandfather than the only semblance of parents he’s had in years. I’m a worthless old man with a timer for a heart. I could die any day, you can't make Yuri suffer because you think his stupid old man matters. He’ll out grow me! But you're young, you have time, you’ll see him graduate college, I may not wake up tomorrow. Don't make such a stupid choice, revolved around me.” Nikolai felt short of breath, and of patience, why would they ever even think such a thing. Viktor sat up, looking fierce, even with Yuuri leaning forward to to hold his shoulders.

“Excuse you, but are you stupid? Yuri has known only one thing his whole life and that was that your stubborn self loved him. He’s known us hardly a few months! And you're lucky for that! How could you possibly not want to milk every last minute with him? How could you not treasure the way he adores you? If he’s going to forget anyone, its us! How could you spit on the idea of family so easily?” Viktor hissed

“Viktor, please…” Yuuri started, Nikolai gives a scoff.

“Yes Viktor, _please,_ I would love to hear more. Tell me how useful I’ll be compared to a rich couple with connections all over the world.”

“I could buy him the sun and he still wouldn't be happy without you! You old bag!” Viktor snapped.

“And he wouldn't have much of a life with me in it! You hot headed know it all!” Nikolai retorted. Just as Viktor started his rebuttal, a loud thump called both of their attention to the end of the bed.

“Stop that! You two are never going to get a damn thing done that way!” Erica interrupted. “Can't you see what your doing? God, you men are the worst with children! Nikolai, even if you die tomorrow, would it really be that big of a sacrifice to visit your own grandson?”

“Mrs. Huss-” She held up a hand.

“SAVE IT! Would it be impossible, yes or no?”

“... No… it wouldn't” Nikolai admitted. Viktor gave a sigh as if to speak.

“And YOU, Viktor, how hard would it be for you to listen to the actual problem?” She jabbed a finger at Nikolai. “He loves Yuri more than his own life, and has for years! He’s saying he wants to leave because he doesn't want to be a burden, not because he's telling you what to do! Honestly, this could be resolved with a simple diplomatic conversation, which is what your husband was TRYING to have. God, you two are too alike.” Mrs. Huss threw her hands up. “Yuuri! What did you tell me you were thinking about just yesterday?” Every eye turned to Yuuri, who looked like he might rather run out the door. Instead he took a breath.

“Well… I was going to ask you first, but I was thinking… if we ever adopt Yuri, we could clean up and sell some things. I have a little save up, also. Put together we could buy a house while our papers are going through… and then, well, we’d have enough room for Yuri… and Nikolai.” The room became very quiet suddenly, the sound of Nikolai's heart beat carrying on in steady beeps. Would they do that? Surely Viktor would say no, Viktor wouldn't want to live with such a cranky old man as himself.

Viktor and Yuuri looked at each other a very long time, before at last, Viktor turned to Nikolai. “Would that be okay with you?” Viktor asked, watching Nikolai carefully. Nikolai blinked. Would it be okay with him?

“I can't leave the hospital, I need someone to watch my vitals.”

“We can hire a nurse to stay in the house during the day.”

“I can't take a flight of stairs without fainting.”

“We’ll get a stair lift, or pick a house that has a room on the main floor.”

“Viktor and I will argue too much!”

“You wouldn't argue in front of Yuri, would you?” Nikolai furrowed his brows, opening his mouth but not feeling any other arguments. “Would it really be so bad? To live with us?”

“Yuuri cooks better than the food you’ll get here, and we can get you a wheelchair. Find a huge room with windows, facing a garden, and Yuri could visit you every single day. It would be like retirement.” Viktor offered, as if cost were nothing. And to him, maybe it wasn't.

“Please, we want you to be happy, we know how hard this all is. It's not a way to live… no offense, but neither of us have seen you as happy as when you went with us to dinner. We can't force you, but we’d love to have you.”

It was entirely above and beyond anything he could have ever expected. Of all the parents to beg for Yuri, none had ever offered a home, or even a glance to Nikolai. It was to the point that Nikolai didn't expect to be considered anything more than a nuisance to get out of the way before they could bring home Yuri. Never before had anyone been kind to Nikolai in this way. Even now, he suspected it was a trick just to get Yuri. And yet, Nikolai had already signed Yuri away, all that was left, was their signatures, which they did not give because Nikolai refused to be in their family.

Sometimes in life it is easy to forget how much we care about something, how much we treasure it because of the ups and downs of life. That we begin to be blinded by protection that we forget what made it so important. To Nikolai, Yuri was the most important person to him, because Yuri was all Nikolai had left, and he would die to keep that safe. To the point he forgot himself and Yuri. He put the false idea of traditional family before anything. That Yuri would have a mom and a dad, and grow up with a life that wasn't marred by the destruction of all his blood relatives. So much did Nikolai care about Yuri, that he forgot how much he himself needed family. That he, too, had lost a family not just Yuri.

“How about this. We will adopt Yuri, if you agree to move in with him,” Viktor offers. Nikolai looks the couple over, willing to throw away their entire lives just to make Yuri happy, and to give Nikolai a good last few years. The idea struck deep with Nikolai. He had to look away for a moment, and clear his throat. Then, after a long minute, he gave a cough.

“Sure, what the hell?” Even though he tries hard to stay calm, Nikolai's voice cracks a little on his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE ALIVE.
> 
> Thank you for coming back and reading this! We put...a LOT into this chapter. So we appreciate those who waited and read this update. Thank you all so much for your comments, as well, it helped us to not lose sight of this project.
> 
> So...... It's been months....
> 
> Here's the deal:  
> We live together now!!!  
> Beans, who is primarily in charge of the writing process for Dear Yuri, moved several states in order to get from one side of the U.S. to the other.  
> I, Kei, am in charge of the planning and editing for Dear Yuri. You can basically call me the idea guy.  
> See, this setup is as beneficial as it is our downfall. If I am busy, I can't supply Beans with ideas, or edit chapters they have written. If Beans is busy, I don't have writing to use as a basis for ideas, or to edit and post.  
> So, as you can imagine... Getting these last two chapters finished has been like pulling teeth.  
> We are about to become very busy, so if we don't get the final chapter out for another few months, then just understand that being an adult takes a lot of time. However, we would like to thank you all, so so much from the bottoms of our hearts, to all of you who have and are planning on sticking around and see this through to the end.
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is a bit messy or disconnected or anything like that... Beans wrote this while moving across the U.S., staying in each place for no longer than about a month, so it may be a mess.
> 
> We will attempt to go through and reply to comments eventually...maybe... Either way, just know we read through them all, and appreciate them SO much. You guys really have spoiled us, and been so incredibly patient and supportive. Hope you all have a great weekend and life...
> 
> Now, if you'll excuse us...We have to go rotate laundry and attempt to write a chapter before work...Yay......adulting...
> 
>  
> 
> Here's our [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat or pester us about updates or something


	11. Making Time For Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One very nosy Chris attempts to help Viktor and Yuuri find some well needed and deserved alone time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that we have been busy, but it's finally here!!! This is the final chapter of this beautiful mess. Thank you all for joining us in the long journey, every one of your comments has kept us going to the end.
> 
> As usual, please forgive any grammar and spelling errors, and we hope you enjoy the finale.
> 
> (Also today is Beans birthday!!! So happy birthday, here's the final chapter for you all!!!)
> 
> One last note... Part of the reason why this has taken so long is because Beans has been accepted into a Yuri on Ice fanzine!!! If you've enjoyed this story, especially the chapter about Makkachin, please check out the wonderful zine piece Beans did, and support the zine creators by purchasing a copy! There will be tons of wonderful artists and writers to behold in this project, it would be greatly appreciated if you'd all check it out!  
> The zine is Kamome, A Soft Viktor Zine! [here @ Twitter](https://twitter.com/softviktorzine?lang=en) and [here at tumblr!](https://softviktorzine.tumblr.com/)

Viktor wakes to the soft sound of slow unconscious breathing, the kind of breath only people in their deepest sleep can breathe. Viktor is tempted to roll over close his eyes bury his face into Yuuri’s shoulder and fall back asleep from the smell of Yuuri’s hair.

Viktor reaches over to the bedside table for his phone, blinking blearily at the light, before the time clicked in his brain.

 

5:00 a.m.

 

Viktor smiles a little at the time. He can not remember a time when he’d been up this early before his alarm. He debated rolling over and actually sleeping, when his eyes fell upon his sleeping Yuuri, soft and warm, his mouth open ever so slightly actually drooling on his pillow. It had been even longer since he can remember doing something else before the alarm.

“Yuuri?” Viktor whispers, waiting a bit before leaning a little closer. “Yuuuri~” he hums, letting his lips brush against Yuuri’s ear. This time his husband stirred.

“Hm?” Yuuri took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering open, but clearly not seeing much.

“Are you awake?”

“Depends…” Yuuri says eyes closed, “what time is it?” Viktor laughs a little before gently kissing Yuuri. Though hardly conscious, Yuuri returns the kiss, raising his arm to wrap around Viktor's neck. The kiss is lazy, but it lasts, and Viktor can feel Yuuri slowly wake up into it as time passes. His fingers tangle into Viktor's hair, humming a little before shifting to sit up a bit, tilting his head with the movement.

The moment switches from lazy to heated fairly quickly and with very little persuasion. It is maybe four or five minutes before they are already breathing hard, hands beginning to wander on their own accord. I was very little time before Viktor is working his way down Yuuri’s neck, mid bite in fact, before his phone alarm goes off.

Yuuri reaches over to switch off Viktor's insistent phone with a disgruntled sound. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to the second alarm.” Yuuri says his fingers run through Viktor's hair laughing slightly.

Viktor smirks, “I only need five.” Yuuri raises his brows, pulling Viktor back to his lips and smothering him in a deep kiss.

“Is that a challenge?”

“That's a fact.” Viktor slides his hand down to prove it, making Yuuri let out a soft moan. Yuuri pushes Viktor on his back, straddling his hips and pressing hard needy kisses on Viktor's lips. They become lost in each other once more, kissing and touching each other like teenagers. They hardly notice the second alarm, this time shut off abruptly by Viktor, Yuuri being too busy laughing at Viktor's “five minute” promise, neither mind though. He runs his fingers against Yuuri’s sides, tickling his ribs so he sharply pulls away, laughing.

“Viktor, no!” Yuuri begs. Viktor ignores him, throwing Yuuri on his back and pinning him into place with his knees, before returning to his merciless assault. Yuuri is laughing and squeaking out complaints, begging Viktor to stop and  gently pushing him away but to no avail though he could easily stop Viktor with a shove. Viktor takes Yuuri’s hands and pushes them above Yuuri’s head, leaning his lips down to either kiss or blow raspberries on Yuuri’s exposed tummy.

Then suddenly the bedroom door cracks open, making Viktor rapidly pull away from Yuuri, throwing his hands up at the sound of a small voice calling from the door.

“We’re going to be late for practice!” Yuri calls in his little but commanding voice. The open door lets Makkachin in, whom dashes over to the couple and leaps up onto their bed, his weight compromises the odd angle Yuuri is at, and all three tumble to the floor in a heap. “Hurry up!” Yuri yells dragging his skating bag on the floor behind him as he turns to continue down the hall, thump down each step as he goes then a distance crack of another door, likely the bedroom door to wake up Nikolai or  kitchen door to destroy the fridge in an attempt to make them all lunch.

Viktor and Yuuri look at each other wide eyed and hearts racing, both sweaty and dishevelled and panting, looking incredibly sleep deprived. They stare at each other for a second, then burst out laughing, Yuuri clutched his sides, sore from being tickled.

“I better go save the kitchen,” Yuuri winces, pushing Makkachin’s head away from licking his ears to sit up.

“That’s likely for the best. Can you feed the beast?” Viktor asks, gathering himself to his feet and tossing the sheets back onto the bed.

“Which one?” Yuuri laughs, picking a shirt off the floor, and tearing a sock from Makkachin’s mouth.

“All three.” Viktor laughs, leaving a peck on Yuuri’s cheek, “I’ll be quick in the shower so you can also get in before we leave,” Viktor promises, grabbing clothes off the “clean” pile of laundry they hadn’t had energy to fold the night before, half jogging into the bathroom.

Yuuri stands, and pats his leg to lure Makkachin out of the bedroom before running down stairs to hunt down Yuri. He finds Yuri’s skating bag on the table vomiting its contents onto the kitchen floor below, Yuri most definitely threw it in his rush to be first to feed the beast.

Yuuri follows the sound of a disgruntled cat to the laundry room, where Yuri had just carried the fluffy kitten to, and was now dumping the entire bag of cat food into both the food and water dishes. Yuuri swoops in, picking the child up and away from the mess, in retaliation Yuri drops the bag completely little kitten chow pellets flying everywhere. Makkachin zooms in next to the small white kitten eating as much as he can wolf down before he's stopped. Yuuri gives a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes before shoving Yuri out the door.

“But I’m just feeding the kitty!” Yuri complains.

“Go wake up dada, okay Yuri?” Yuuri asks, yanking on Makkachin’s collar, Yuri huffs but does as he's told. Yuuri wrestles Makkachin into the backyard. Makka whines about how unfair it is that the cat gets all the food when she’s been here hardly a week, and surely he has seniority, Yuuri shakes his head, closing the door.

Yuuri is still sweeping food back into the bag when Viktor comes down looking like a million dollars, leaning in the doorway and smiling down at Yuuri. Age hardly seemed to affect Viktor simply aging him like a fine wine, only getting better with age.

“Morning Cinderella,” Viktor laughs, flipping his damp hair out of his face. “A little overzealous in the feeding of the beast I see. Yuuri turns a look to him, smiling back and tugging the kitten away from the mess, offering it to Viktor.

“Yuri was ‘helping’. Hold this for me.” Yuuri holds the puff ball at arm’s length where she swats at the air. Viktor looks far less amused now.

“It’s so ugly though…” Viktor complains, taking the furious beast so it dangles in both his hands, outstretched from his body in the same fashion that a teen boy would hold his sister’s bra.

“You bought it. Might as well hold it.” Yuuri turns back to shoveling food in the bag. “Make sure Yuri is actually waking up Nikolai and not trying to sharpen his own blades again.” Yuuri asks. Viktor turns back slowly, then suddenly dashes into the other room, calling out, “Yuri no!”

The rest of the morning goes approximately the same direction. While Viktor helps Nikolai to the table, Yuuri pulls Yuri out of the fridge saving the eggs from Yuri shaking them by his ear before putting them on the shelf where they rolled out and onto the floor.

While Yuuri starts preparing their meal, Viktor pulls the cat out of Yuri’s skating bag for the third time that morning firmly explaining that kittens don’t like ice and that they don’t want to skate.

Then while Yuuri drags a screaming Yuri into the a car, Viktor tears apart Yuri’s room to find his tiger backpack so they can finally get going, finding it in the bathroom, where is sat soaking wet in a mess of toothpaste spread all over the counter.

To summarize, they’re all approximately twenty minutes late.

“Yuri, go to the locker rooms. And please do it without the stealing anyone's socks.” Yuuri sighs, patting Yuri’s back just as he runs off. Yuuri looks to Viktor, blinking slowly with heavy lids.

Viktor chuckles, “He’s lucky we love him,” Viktor leans over to give Yuuri a peck on the lips.

“You two! Where have you been?” Yakov scolds, walking their direction. “Yuuri, your nine o’clock is already here. And you, Viktor, your class has been doing their stretches ten minutes!”

Both Viktor and Yuuri point to Yuri, who is currently sitting on a bench just through the door to the locker room, and tying the laces of his skates together.

“We adopted a cat,” Yuuri begins.

“The the cat had to be fed.” Viktor builds off of Yuuri.

“Yuri tried to help, so I had to clean up after feeding the cat,”

“The cat was about to be smuggled into skating practice,”

“And the car,”

“Inside a skate bag where she’d be pummelled by blades,”

“So we had to lock the cat in the laundry room for her own safety…”

“Then Makkachin needed breakfast,”

“Yuri disappeared for but a minute, and we found him sulking in the living room complaining that he couldn’t go without a cat in his hands.”

“After a half hour fight, we had to find a stuffed cat,”

“But not just any would do,” Viktor held up the soapy tiger bag, yawning. “Which reminds me, here, please make sure Yuri doesn’t stab anyone with his skates?” Viktor asks, already passing Yakov the damp bag and jogging off to the front desk.” Just have him do a few laps maybe a few warm ups then send him in with my class, thanks.”

“Thank you so much, Yakov, we appreciate it.” Yuuri smiled softly, jogging to the student sitting on a bench, leaned against a wall scrolling through her phone.

“What the hell?”  Yakov furrows his brows before it sank in what just happened, “VITYA!” He calls on reflex, though Viktor is ignoring him and has a class to teach. Yakov gives a huff, shaking his head at the pair who are frantically apologizing to their students. “Didn’t even give me time to tell them they have company,” Yakov rolls his eyes, walking to the locker room to teach Yuri once again how to lace his skates.

Yakov could have found time to be frustrated, but understands that things are a little frantic on their end. Adopting a child and moving into a new home generally throws your world upside down. They have been pretty frazzled during the past few weeks, and they really need a weekend to themselves, but every time Yakov had tried to offer to watch Yuri while they go out, they always dismissed him, which is why he called in reinforcements.

Viktor stretches his hands over his head popping his back his spine as his class filed out to meet their parents. Hands slide across his torso, a head resting on his shoulder. Viktor gives a good natured laugh, moving his arms down to remove the hands and glide them across his ribs.

“Yuuri, this isn’t really the place is it?” Viktor turns his head to the intruder, about to give Yuuri a kiss before sending him back to his own lesson, but stops when instead he gets a thick whiff of a familiar cologne.

“It is always the right place to meet an old friend, no?” warm english purrs in his ear, accented slightly in a way that Viktor only knew to belong to one man.

“Chris!” Viktor pulls away, grinning broadly, turning to face his friend. Lean, thin, well dressed, and grinning like a cat. They hug, kissing each other’s cheeks as if it hadn’t been three years since they last met on the ice. “I have to see my class out, do you have time to stick around for lunch or something?” Viktor asks. Chris smiles in his sly way, touching his nose.

“Well, considering I came all the way here to see you two, I think I can find time for lunch.” Chris chuckles, “I’ll let you be, I’ve got to go say hi to Yuuri.~” and with a flick of his wrist, he’s off to hunt down an unsuspecting Yuuri. Even without any proof, Viktor guesses that there’s a reason behind the surprise visit, but he can't help smiling anyway.

Viktor turns back to what's left of his class, only to hear his name yelped from across the rink and turn back around again to catch Yuuri swatting Chris’s hand away, before hesitating when he realizes that it’s not in fact Viktor grabbing his ass, then apologizes profusely for hitting Chris.

Yuuri’s student has a hard time breathing for a moment when she notices it was Christophe Giacometti leaning on the border, watching her lesson with his signature winning smile. She’d been that way when she walked into her first day of class to find out she was being taught by Yuuri Katsuki, nearly fainting when she first saw Viktor Nikiforov for the first time, too. It makes sense, most people would never meet their idols, let alone three of them.

Once his last student is out, Viktor meets up with Chris, leaning on the barricade and beaming as Yuuri does his best to conduct a star struck student.

“So, what brings you to my ice?” Viktor asks, humming slightly. Chris laughs, leaning on his fist.

“Well, I officially retired recently, as you likely heard, so I find myself with heaps of free time.” Chris turns to face Viktor, smiling. “So I thought to myself, why not come visit? Meet the family, take you two out for dinner and away from the rugrat.” Chris looks around, smiling. “Where is he by the way?”

“Yuri?” Viktor asks slowly, before it sinks in that he has no clue where Yuri is, and hadn't seen him since they got here an hour before even though he was meant to join his class. He scans the rink quickly before catching sight of Yuri happily skating backwards in a far corner. “Yuri is the blond boy skating over by Yakov,” Viktor points, “I actually need to go over and relieve Yakov of babysitting duty, want to come meet him?” Viktor pushes off from the wall. “He’s a bit of a terror, so you two will get along just fine.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Chris asks pleasantly. Viktor replays the morning's events as they walk around, waving to Yakov, who watches Yuri skate through a few simple warm ups. Though Yakov isn’t Yuri's coach Yakov is still watching for how best to coach him out of sheer habit.

“He's so thin,” Chris comments, “reminds me of a younger me.”

Viktor gives a snort. “ Except he's a natural blond.”

Chris shrugs, “Some of us aren't born with our true colors,” he hums, leaning his head in his hand and watching Yuri skate. He wears much the same expression as Yakov, calculating the skill Yuri possesses.

Yuri faces away from them, but skates backwards towards them, doing a small jump to turn around before he hits the wall, looking up and smiling to himself. His eyes scan to the side, seeing first Yakov, then Viktor, then Chris. He skates smoothly past then suddenly tilts his skates to turn and face Chris full on, eyes wide just before his odd angle spins him straight onto his butt.

“I think he recognized you.” Viktor laughs.

“I’m flattered, I should drop by more often.” Chris hums warmly. Yuri gets to his feet, skating to the edge and reaching a hand forward, tugging Viktor down in order to whisper in his ear.

“That's Christophe Giacometti…”

“Yes, it is, do you want to say hello?” Viktor asks. Yuri looks over to Chris, furrowing his brows.

“I didn't know you were taller than Viktor.” Yuri says, ears turning a little pink.

“I always have been, how tall did you think I was?” Chris chuckled

Yuri lifted his hand to around his neck area. “That's how tall you are when you get your medals.” At first Viktor doesn't understand, Chris has always been taller than Viktor. “Did Viktor wear tall shoes?” and then suddenly it clicks. The only times Yuri would have seen them standing next to each other is on the podium, Viktor in gold, while Chris flit between silver and bronze.

Viktor let out a chuckle, trying not to laugh loudly. Either Chris doesn't understand the comment, or realizes it’s coming from a child, and thereby has no right carrying any threat.

“It’s from all the veggies I ate growing up. The more you munch, the taller you get.” Chris laughs, leaning down to ruffle Yuri’s hair and earning himself a swat from the angry child.

“I’m not falling for that trick! Yuuri, Viktor and grandpa say that all the time to get me to eat them, but I don’t like them!” Yuri says.

Chris chuckles. “Oh my, what a temper!”

“I don’t have a temper!”

“Yuri, is this how you want to act in front of...” Viktor looks around as if to make sure nobody is listening, “one of your idols?”

Yuri sighs, pouting some more and then shaking his head.

“Good.” Viktor turns to look at Chris. “I have about an hour before my next student, and Yuuri has about forty minutes before his current class ends. Will you be okay up here while I help Yuri out?”

“Which Yuri are we helping?”

“This one.” Viktor ruffles Yuri’s blond hair. “Finish your warm up while I get my skates.” Yuri nods, kicking off to pick up where he’d left off. Viktor walked to the locker room where his skates lived for the better part of the week nowadays Chris following behind. “We teach Yuri skating, ballet, etcetera, in between our classes, switching off pretty much all day.”

“Wow, do you two ever get a break from children?” Chris muses.

Viktor shrugs. “Not really. I mean, we do have days off and breaks throughout, of course.”

“But you’re still taking care of a kid during your breaks.”

“Yes, it’s all very boring and domestic. We even have a cat now.”

“You have a cat?” Chris says sounding rightfully shocked.

“Yep, adopted her last week, and I still stand by cats are terrors, at least a puppy wouldn’t bite when you rub its tummy.” Viktor pulled his laces tight shaking his head.

“Cat’s don’t like having their tummy rubbed,” Chris chuckled leaning on his hand. Viktor looked up frowning.

“Why not? Dogs love it.”

“Well you wouldn’t give a child a energy bar instead of candy would you?” Chris asked. Viktor paused for far too long for a question that should have been simple. Chris gives Viktor a proper once over noting how much older he looks. “Hm,” Chris hums. “You two really do need a proper break.”

Viktor chuckles. “Wow, I wish. When was the last time Yuuri and I got to eat a warm dinner? Astounding how people live as parents of more than one child.” He contemplates on this for a moment, unknowingly giving Chris time to formulate an idea.

“I’ll watch Yuri today.”

“You’ll what.”

“I am going to coach Yuri for the day,” Chris leaps up with a flourish turning to the door.

“Chris wait!”

“Ta-ta,” Chris waves before stepping out of the locker room and into the rink.

And true to his word Chris spends the day watching after Yuri, he rents a pair of skates then smooth as silk glides to Yuri’s side, running him through his routine so the couple can focus on their paying students.

“Is it this busy for them all week?” Chris asks in the best Russian he can muster.

Yuri frowns at him. “I don't know. I go to school all week.” Yuri mumbles shyly. Chris nods slowly.

“Is it this busy when you drop by?” Chris lifts his hands, curling his fingers just so. “Back straight, like this my dear.”

Yuri adjusts his posture, looking a little aggravated. “Viktor says it's always busy on the weekend.” Yuri explains.

Chris gets the real answer from Yakov, however gliding to the side of the rink and leaning against the border.

“Viktor and Yuuri have Yuri in school during the day working all morning, leave to pick him up from school, lunch, come back to the rink, teach him his lessons, dinner. On the weekends it's worse, as they have no one to watch Yuri all day but me” Yakov explains.

“You told me it was bad, but this is just tragic…”

“Most of the time they have him sitting on a bench doing homework, or playing on his tablet. Although he rarely ever just sits and does what he was told…” Yakov sighs.

From what Chris could gather, It has been a long time since they had fully adopted Yuri, and had yet to find time to for a perfect weekend.  

“Say.” Chris says skating behind, tapping his bottom lip as if the idea on his tongue was spur of the moment. “What if you two did catch a break?”

“Uh oh,” Viktor laughs.

“No, I’m serious. My boyfriend and I have been planning on taking a trip soon, we could make it a double date!”

Viktor’s mock-amused expression turns serious, doubt flooding his features. “Trip?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be too far out. In case you need to run home for an emergency.” Chris suggests.

“For how long?”

“Only the weekend.”

Viktor’s face goes pale. “Yuuri and I haven’t stopped looking after Yuri since we adopted him.”

“Not even for a day?”

“I don’t think we’ve even been away from the house for more than a night’s sleep.”

“How dead is your sex life?” Chris asks with a horrified expression.

“Prehistoric.”

“Please let us treat you to a weekend. You won’t even have to spend a cent.”

“That’s,” Viktor begins but gets cut off.

“No! You’re letting me do this for you. Otherwise you’ll just use expenses as an excuse for why you can’t.”

“Chris, I’d love to, but we really don’t have much time to spontaneously take the weekend off, who would watch Yuri?”

“Find a nanny. We can plan for a weekend close to home but not too close,” Chris suggests. Viktor doesn’t look convinced, so Chris continued. “I’m sure you’ve heard, but my boyfriend and I are also retired now, so we will stay for a month if that’s how long it take to convince you.”

“Chris, you say that but really? A month?”

“Okay, so it isn’t the epitome of convenience, but you’re in desperate need of this. Please just let me do this for you.”

“I just can’t leave Yuri with a stranger for an entire weekend, when we haven’t stopped looking after Yuri for months.”

“Then hire Yakov, he is marvelous with children. After all, you turned out okay.”

“Yakov is busier than us.”

“Is there _really_ nobody who would do this favor for you?” Chris sighs. “If you can tell me in clear conscience that there is absolutely nobody who sees how overworked you two are and will be generous enough to give you your first break in what, a year? Then I will leave you alone.”

“No one I can think of…” Viktor answers, his mind full of possibilities for perhaps a dog sitter, but when it comes to watching the hurricane ten year old that is Yuri, he isn’t sure anyone will be willing.

“I’m calling Mila… And Georgi is still in St Petersburg, isn’t he?” Chris sighs. “Come on, you have options, and if you won’t exhaust them then I will.”

“We’ll have to ask Yuuri.”

“Which one?”

“Husband.”

“Oh good, more convincing. This is going to take all night.” Chris laughs

“Probably.” Viktor agrees.

“So, are you going to invite me to dinner or will I have to fend for myself in my rudimentary Russian?” Chris chuckles. Viktor shoves him jokingly with his shoulder before agreeing to dinner.

At dinner Chris is introduced properly to their family, and saw the true terror that is Yuri during dinner. It became clear how spending a weekend away and leaving Yuri alone completely seems like a death wish for not just the home, but everyone within its walls as well. Yuri is a hurricane and both Viktor and Yuuri are unsettled by the thought of Yuri being alone for any length of time. Chris suggested a nanny.

“I don't trust a stranger in the home, last time I had a stranger in my house she stole my skates and sold them on ebay.” Viktor complains, though that had been years ago and they were skates he’d worn for practice anyway so they weren't even his expensive skates. Chris suggested one of their students.

“They're just kids, most of them, they would more likely make things worse than be responsible.” Yuuri says, though his student that morning had been seventeenth, and plenty old to keep a child in check. The further along the excuses they got, the more Chris realized how much the burden of parenthood weighed upon them as a couple. They clearly spend more time worrying about Yuri then they do about each other. Yuuri is practically napping in his dinner as they speak. Something has to be done.

“We just don't have the time” Viktor objects, putting away dishes, “Yakov couldn't give us both that time off.”

“The evening is Yakovs’ idea, he would be more than willing to take time off.” Chris leapt up to assist in clearing the table.

“It's all a really nice gesture, Chris, but... we just don't have that kind of time. Besides what Yakov says, we don't need it, we are doing just fine.” Viktor reaches over to take the plate from Chris, “You're free to visit though...” as the last word left his lips Chris’ plate made contact with his hand, meeting his palm balanced and then promptly slipped out of his palm and to the floor where it shattered. Viktor stared at it a moment before looking over the his husband passed out on the kitchen table, and gave a sigh.

“Maybe we do need some time off…” Viktor at last resigned,

“You need your weekends too, let's start there.” Chris laugh “Have you ever asked Nikolai to watch Yuri?”

“No, but we wouldn't want to bother him with it, it would be wrong to bring him into our home just to make him Yuri’s babysitter.” Viktor sighs setting out for a broom.

“Then I’ll ask,” Chris beams, waltzing into the next room where Nikolai sat reading in his arm chair, Makkachin sitting happily at his feet.

“If I arrange for someone to come in to check on you now and then, could you watch Yuri for a weekend?” Chris asks. Nikolai looks up, furrowing his brows.

“Of course, I raised him.” Nikolai huffed. Chris turned to Viktor standing at the door gesturing to Nikolai.

“Nikolai you don't have to do that…”

“You two need time alone, and I want to spend time with my grandson. Stop fighting your friend and have your date. You're such a puts Viktor.”

It seems as if there was no way to fight, not when everyone else is taking the other side. And so they resigned to reluctantly agreeing, and at last plans could be made.

“I’m glad that was resolved quickly, I was starting to worry afraid you’d take all week and I'd have to make new reservations.” Chris laughs pulling out his phone.

“Of course you already have plans.” Viktor sighs. Chris gave him a loving wink.

“We are going to dinner, to the ballet and then to a spa hotel just outside of town where you two can put your feet up. You two get your own suite~” Viktor and Yuuri looked to each other, before Viktor gave a small Chuckle, reaching over to pick food from Yuuri’s bangs.

“It has been a long time since we went to the ballet together…” Yuuri hummed.

“It's the nutcracker~” Chris hummed, “I got balcony seats, and they were not easy to come by…” Viktor makes a face before sighing and taking Yuuri’s hand.

“Okay… why not, what's one weekend away?”

“It’ll be just like old times.” Chris waves, “before domesticity, retirement and, well, becoming old men.”

“That’d be nice.” Yuuri hums softly, leaning his head on Viktor's shoulder.

“It's settled then?” Chris smiled, “next weekend?” The couple pause a moment thinking about it. They have been tired lately. Hardly having time to each other as they tried to figure out their new schedule.

It hasn't been easy, giving up everything, money, attention, time spent alone with each other. They couldn't say they regretted anything, heavens no. It's just that they couldn't go do things. For starters, going out for breakfast was impossible, spontaneous lunches in strange cafes were as well, and don’t get started on driving late into the night just to sleep in the car and watch the sunrise. Things that seem like date things, not something you’d drag a child to. Yuri would want to do kid things, parks and loud movies for sure, causing their adult life to slowly become extinct, fun would become a thing of the past…

Viktor gives a half shrug.

“Why not? I mean, it's good as any.”

And with that it is settled. They arrange for Mila to drop by on her way back home, and Georgi would drop by with dinner throughout the weekend. The rest of the evening was up to Nikolai, and Yuri.

Viktor spent the following days moving any fragile objects into their bedroom behind their locked door. Yuuri taking great care to move the good china to the top shelves, tucking the nice silverware in the laundry room with the detergent.

Though it was spur of the moment both Viktor and Yuuri couldn’t help feeling excited. A newfound energy making them feel younger. Viktor nipped at the nape of Yuuri’s neck as they put away skates. Yuuri sat on Viktor’s knee leaning forward to hum something in english, Viktor’s hand fighting every urge to slide up Yuuri’s thigh. Yakov had nearly forgot how to scold them for flirting at the rink it has been so long.

Naturally Yuri noticed the change in attitude and seemed to be acting up too. Going quieter than normal, seeming to sulk a little. The night before their grand weekend, they sat to eat. Viktor's hand slid over Yuuri’s lap, leaning over and whispering something dark and wicked in his ear, turning them pink.

Yuri throws his fork down, “I’m nine!” Yuri scolds. Viktor looks up, turning a smile to Yuri.

“Yes you are,” Viktor replies in a sweet tone.

“I’m too young for you to be this gross,” Yuri yells, before leaping off his chair and storming up to his room, after a short silence, the door to Yuri’s room slammed shut, with all the fury a ten year old could contain.

The couple look to each other, frowning. Had they had more time to raise him, perhaps they could have gathered what was going through Yuri’s mind. But as new parents, the two are at a loss.

“Should we talk to him?” Viktor asks softly, Yuuri shakes his head looking helpless.

“Maybe he's just tired, I had him practicing really hard today…” they settle, packing up dinner and heading to bed.

The next morning they wake late for the first time in months, waking with a feeling of thorough rest instead of reluctant exhaustion. And it felt unreal. They had time to think and get ready and even flirt. However there is still the nagging in the back of their mind.

By the time they are ready for the day, Yuri is still in bed, and after making a small breakfast, he is still in his room. He stays there up until they were meant to leave. At the door they hesitate, looking to the stairs. Then go to check in with a knock on Yuri's door before calling into him.

They get a curt, “just go already.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine just leave.”

“Yuri…”

“Go away!” There was a thump as something was thrown at the door. The couple exchanged looks unsure of what to do.

“Is there something we can do?” There was no response. After a long minute and another shared glance in each other's direction, the two quietly leave

“Do you think he was feeling sick?” Viktor asks quietly at a stoplight. Yuuri sighs shaking his head.

“He didn't feel warm when I helped him get dressed, I think he’s just having a day…”

“Were we being too flirty? Did I scar him?” Viktor asks thinking back to that morning.

“If you scarred him it was when I walked downstairs with boxers and your shirt on, and you grabbed my ass and called me a vixen…” Yuuri frowned.

“Why was he bothered so much…. Did I say something too loudly?” Viktor asks.

“I doubt it… he seemed like something else was bugging him…”

Honestly, the process of adoption, court dates house inspections all while working full time and finding a suitable home for the four of them had been hard. A lot of their worst fights happened during that time.

One such argument got so fierce that Yuuri forgot russian, slipping into his college english and a spattering of japanese insults, ending with Viktor throwing his hands up and taking Makkachin for a walk. Sleep deprivation and stress made them say a lot of things they didn't mean. That night after cooling off, they promised themselves that they couldn't let this be what tore them apart, after all they had been through. That no matter what, they had to keep their relationship together. Even if that meant letting Yuri pout for an evening to take time off which is how they were able to drive away now, but it's still not easy just leaving Yuri like this.

“I’ll text Nikolai, he’ll know.”

Chris has dinner planned at a restaurant near the the theater, a high end place that they had to dig out their nice clothes from the back of the closet. Sitting down to a meal more expensive than they could justify getting anymore. Chris didn't spare any expenses.

They sat and chatted about how Yuri would have thought the place was too stuffy, and then joked over which item Yuri might pick from the menu. After clearing his throat Chris changed the subject to their lives since they last had seen each other. Viktor talked about how they’d met Yuri, Chris told funny stories about the younger skaters making their debut, and how different they were than their normal friend group. Yuuri laughs, reaching over to check Viktor's watch before drawing a comparison between a funny thing Yuri had done that week. Chris brought up thinking about coaching, and Viktor explained how they'd started talking about how Yuri had started out a little rough but with time he’d gotten better. Yuuri checks Viktor's watch again, and then politely takes out his phone to check it for any messages. Viktor peers over to also confirm that there isn't any news.

“You two seem distracted.” Chris notices over his wine.

“Sorry, Yuri was in a mood when we left. We’re worried.” Yuuri comments.

“I’ve noticed.” Chris hums, watching Yuuri scroll through Viktor's phone. “What about?” Chris muses. Viktor gives a shrug.

“Something about us being too touchy feely in front of him. I think.” Viktor absently picks a speck off the table, “though it could have been easily him just having a moody day. He’s somewhat known for his tantrums.”

“The orphanage told us to let him be if it happens, so, really it's not a big issue, we’ve just… never seen it in person,” Yuuri adds.

“Really there is nothing to worry about, we are here to relax, Nikolai will handle it.” Viktor laughs, taking Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri hums in agreement. “So how have you two been? No kids for you I assume.” Viktor asks, reaching his free hand to his own wine. Chris laughs.

“Heavens no, we’re too young for that,” Chris hummed pompously, waiting for Viktor's retort, about Chris hardly being older than Yuuri, only to catch Viktor looking over to read something on his phone. Chris gave a frown.

“Minami is doing well, won silver last season,” Chris rose his brows to Yuuri, waiting for a supportive smile and warm comment, and only getting a distracted

“Oh good.” Chris gives a sour expression.

“Micky and Emil were caught having sex in the locker rooms.” Chris watched the two for shock, or laughter, Viktor calling him out on his exaggerations and crude falsehood at least. All he got was a questioning look from Masumi who was paying attention and knew that this statement was very a lie. Chris, unbridled by retribution continued.

“Apparently Seung-Gil was the one to find them, haven't seen him since, I think he's retired because of it. Such a shame, he was doing well last season...” Yuuri nodded, Viktor’s head was facing Chris, but his eyes lay on his phone brows furrowed.

“Such a shame.” Yuuri absently agreed.

“Leo is pregnant with Guang Huang's child.” Chris said flatly.

“Oh congratulations.” Viktor says, looking up and smiling warmly. Masumi gives a snort, covering his mouth to keep from laughing. Viktor's expression changes to confusion. “Isn't it good?”

“Viktor, I just told you Leo was pregnant,” Chris laughs, “You two are not present. At all.” Viktor did his best to look as if he were not flushed with embarrassment. Yuuri looked up from reading what was on Viktor's phone, blinking shyly.

“Sorry, Nikolai texted.” Yuuri apologized

“I’ll put my phone away.” Viktor added silencing the phone and shoving it into his pocket, smiling apologetically. “This is about us, we shouldn't worry… right?” He squeezed Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri nodded.

“What did the text say?” Chris asked amused.

“I asked what Yuri was upset about when we left.” Viktor sighs, “apparently when he was little Nikolai and Yuri watched the nutcracker together a lot, as a family thing. he speculates Yuri feels excluded from our family” Viktor smiles a little, “But we have to be selfish sometimes right?” Yuuri nods softly.

Chris rose his brows slowly. Chris and Viktor have been friends a long time, and he's known Yuuri well enough to see that the two were very distraught. Chris rolls his eyes pushing to his feet, and pulling his phone from his pocket.

“You two are hopeless.” Chris dials a number walking from the table, pressing the phone to his ear.

“What is he doing?” Viktor asked. Masumi shrugged slightly,

“With that man, who knows.”

After about fifteen minutes, long after their food a arrived, Chris returned. He slipped into his seat smooth as silk, smiling softly to himself.

“Sorry for taking so long, that took some convincing.” Chris took a sip of his wine, “Masumi, dear may I see the tickets?” Chris asked fluttering his lashes and offering his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Masumi pulled four tickets from his jacket's inside pocket placing it on Chris’ palm. Chris leaned a peck on Masumi’s cheek before pulling away, turning to Yuuri and Viktor. He places them on the table, pushing it across the table cloth.

“Chris…” Viktor began. Chris held up a hand.

“One for each of you, one for little Yuri, and of course Nikolai. I just called the names are changed, and a handicap chair will be set up for Nikolai, Okay?” Chris asks, smirking into his wine.

“You didn't have to do that…” Viktor says.

“I did have to, my job is to make sure your weekend continues as smoothly as possible. If Yuri wants to see the play, then so be it. Masumi and I collect you after the play, and we’ll continue as planned.” Chris waved his hand, before at last picking up his utensils and eating. Viktor and Yuuri stare at the tickets a moment, before Chris sighs, waving his hand.

“Eat, you’ll have to drive quickly to pick up your family before the play.” Chris says.

“You are such a show off.” Viktor chuckles at last.

“I try.” Chris hums picking up his fork.

“Thank you isn't enough.” Yuuri bows politely

“Repay me by breaking your bed at the hotel tonight.” Chris dismisses with a demure wave of his hand. Viktor laughs, while Yuuri gave Chris a look, glancing around them.

“I think we can manage something.” Viktor takes Yuuris hand laughing. “I expect it will come like riding a bike when we aren't worried about Yuri wreaking havoc in the other room.”

“It's what I'm here for,” Chris purred cutting into his meal.

The conversation seemed to flow more naturally after that. Viktor and Yuuri reined in talking about parenting, and Chris stopped interrupting them when they started talking about Yuri’s antics. The conversation soon slipped back into how it use to be, laughing and telling stories about their lives. Dinner flew by.

After a short fight over the bill, they set out to home, grinning broadly.

“Who do you think will be more excited? Yuri or Nikolai?” Viktor laughs.

“I fear Nikolai will be, he might throw his back out in excitement,” Yuuri chuckled.

“He wouldn’t tell us he did either. just suffer in silence.” Viktor shook his head, and they both laugh.

They arrive home peeking their head to the living room where Nikolai sits reading. When they told him, he blinked, then scowled.

“You could have called ahead so I could get dressed! I’m not ballet ready!” Nikolai huffs.

“You look fine Nikolai, you always do.” Yuuri assures. Nikolai gives a harrumph pushing himself to his feet.

“Yuri is in his room, I'm going to find something nice to wear thank you very much,” Nikolai says, toddling off to his room.

Yuuri and Viktor creep their way to Yuri’s room, pushing the door open. As always the room was pure chaos, toys strewn across the floor though they were put away just that morning. The bed was unmade. The quilt tugged off and shoved under the bed. Everything was everywhere, except for Yuri.

The couple stared at the mess, scanning for Yuri through the stuffed monsters for their monster.

“Yuri?” Viktor called cautiously. Silence. Viktor’s brows furrowed, concern building. Yuuri took his hand and pointed to the end of the bed, where a curly brown tail wagged to the sound of Viktor's voice. They walked over to the bed, and peered beneath to find not just Makkachin, but Yuri, a box of cookies he wasn't allowed to have, and an annoyed kitten being hugged too tightly to escape.

“Yuri…” Yuuri called out softly, gently patting the child’s leg to get his attention.

“Why are you still here? Leave me alone to die.” Yuri's voice cracks as he spoke.

“Why would we leave you to die?”

“All adults care about is themselves, they always do.”

“Well if that were true then why do we want to bring you with us to the play?” Viktor chuckles the words, his lips audibly parting into a wide grin.

“Liars! You don't care about me, you only want to watch the play with your friends now.” The smile melted off Viktor's lips  as he turned to Yuuri. The couple exchanged looks. They had not anticipated a tantrum.

“Yuri, Chris-- Our friends gave us the tickets and told us to take you and Nikolai instead.” Yuuri encouraged.

“I don't care! I won't go!” Yuri had such a sharp edge to his tone the pair was unsure of what to do. So Viktor did what he did best.

“Oh no… I guess I better call the ballet and tell them to cancel…” Viktor shakes his head sighing loudly.

Yuri hesitates pretending to still not care then in a curt tone asks, “why.”

“Well you see, one of the ballerinas in the play heard you're going tonight and she won't dance unless you're there to see her. She's a big fan of yours, Yuri.” Viktor lies. Yuuri rose his brows, Viktor wore his 'go with it’ smile, and Yuuri sighs.

“...Really?” Yuri huffs. “I don't believe you.”

“Yes, she saw your skating and has wanted you to see her perform too.” Yuuri adds.

“Why would she watch me?” Yuri pouts into his distraught kitten.

“Well, your father is famous after all,” Yuuri points out.

“I guess that makes sense…”

“ _Both_ your father _'s_ are famous,” Viktor reminds him.

Yuuri clears his throat and nudges Viktor with an elbow. “Anyway, she really wants you to go.”

“She's excited to meet you, too, and she's the lead ballerina!” Viktor enthuses. Yuuri’s eyes shot open and he nudged Viktor harder, turning to give him a look.

“Really?” Yuri gasps, “we gotta go then!” He crawls out from under the bed enthusiastically, and throws what he was holding - including the cat - on his bed. As soon as Viktor and Yuuri are off the floor, Yuri is shoving them out the door. “Get out get out get out! I have to look nice if I'm going to meet my biggest fan!”

The door slammed behind them, and Yuuri turned a death stare towards Viktor. “Bedroom. Now.”

“What did I do?” Viktor asks, following behind Yuuri as they made their way to their room.

Yuuri slammed the door and turned on the lights in one swift movement. “You can't just tell him that he gets to meet a famous ballerina Viktor! There's only so far you can take a white lie before it becomes a mess!”

“Oh…” Viktor's jaw tightened. “Um…” He pulled out his phone, sifting through apps and types things into the search engine like a man on a mission.

“What are you doing? I'm still mad at you!” Yuuri whisper yells.

“Yuuri, I think I might know someone from the ballet. I should be able to pull some strings.”

“Of course, because you're Viktor Nikiforov.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You can't just ‘Viktor Nikiforov’ your way into everything. And what if it doesn't work? He'll be even more heartbroken when we tell him the truth!”

“If that were the case then I'd take full responsibility. However,” Viktor beams, placing his phone in Yuuri's hand planting a kiss on Yuuri’s head. “I know the lead choreographer. Lilia Baranovskaya. So let's put on a smile and take Yuri to the Nutcracker!” Viktor brushed past Yuuri to grab his evening jacket from the closet. “oh, and change your tie, she’ll think it's twice as ugly as I do.”

Yuuri stood there for a moment questioning his life up to this point, then without a word he slipped off his tie.

  
  


* * *

 

 

  
They arrive at the theater with twenty minutes to spare. They drop Nikolai off at the balcony seats with Yuri who looked over the seats and dimmed stage.

“Are they all waiting for her, can she really stop everything just to see me?” Yuri asks. Viktor blinks, then smiles.

“She can, when she is the lead. The show cannot go on without her. I’ll go tell her you're here.” Viktor excused himself, stepping back to leave. Yuuri follows after him a moment later, smiling back at Yuri before slipping out and running to catch up with Viktor's half jog.

“Where are you going?” Yuuri hisses, “I thought you said you had this figured out.”

“I do, this is me figuring it out.” Viktor gave his million dollar smile that almost always meant he had no idea what he was doing.

“Viktor, you can't just stop the whole performance just to carry on your lie.”

“I’m not, we have…” Viktor checked his watch, “fifteen minutes to find a ballerina and convince her to talk to our son whom we love.” Viktor was walking faster now, however.

“You don't have to do this.” Yuuri continues to try and convince a lost cause. Viktor threw open the door to the stairs, thundering down them rapidly. “Viktor, please, you cannot fame your way to everything you want.” Viktor stopped on the landing for the second floor, turning and clasping his hand over his chest.

“I am hurt, Yuuri! Also, if you're going to be negative, can you negatively buy a safety net cookie for Yuri?”

“So even you don't think it’ll work!”

“Of course not!” Viktor’s voice turns serious, and his chest heaves slightly as he catches his breath. “It's not that I'm convinced I'll get my way every time by flashing my face and putting on a show, but it's all I've got. So I might as well try, right? Got me this far, and after all.” Viktor gave Yuuri a genuine smile, now. “it’s helped me to meet the people who I love most in the world. I know it's probably all long shot, and I know he’ll probably forget this moment  but if it'll make Yuri feel like he belongs in our family, I've got to try.”

Yuuri smiles fondly for a moment, a shaky sigh leaving his nose. “Fine, but I am not spending my money on your guilt cookie.”

“Oh right, here, take my card. You remember my pin right?”

“Yes, I do.” Yuuri takes the card, turning abruptly and stepping up a few stairs, before he sighs again, “good luck.” Yuuri turns and hops down to the landing to give Viktor a hug. “You'd better make this purchase worthwhile, I hate peace offerings.”

“Don't worry, I have a way with people,” Viktor chuckles, pushing Yuuri's bangs back.

“I'm painfully aware…” Yuuri sighs, cracking an involuntary smile as Viktor kisses his forehead. Viktor checks his watch.

“And only ten minutes, so I have to hurry. See you soon, I love you.” Viktor gives Yuuri a peck on the lips this time, before untangling his arms from Yuuri's torso.

“Alright alright, get your ass down there and work those convoluted charms of yours.” Yuuri sighs, making his way up the stairs as Viktor makes his way down them.

Viktor reaches the ground floor in a minute, bursting through the backstage doors as if he walked through them every day. He scannes the crowd of dancers stretching in the halls. They all looked up upon his entry, some gave a gasp, while others blink in confusion. He heard his name whisper around him as he walks past, going farther backstage to the star’s dressing rooms. This is where he finds Lilia scolding the stage manager.

“Lilia?” Viktor started, the woman turned a finger up as him keeping her eyes on the man before her.

“Call that damned locksmith again and tell him if he isn't here in five minutes I will toss glitter over his head and make _him_ dance in her stead!” She whipped around to glare at Viktor. “What the hell are you doing on my set?” She snapped. Viktor blinks twice before smiling, then getting interrupted. “And who let you in?!”

“Lilia I need a quick favor. My son wants to meet your lead ballerina-”

“Are you crazy! Do you think so highly of yourself that a whole production would halt simply for the whims of your bratty child!? No Viktor! Of course not!” She turns abruptly to slam her fist on a door, turning the knob which seems locked. “Nina! We do not have time for this! Put your shoes on and get out here!”

“I can't, it is bad luck, send out my understudy.” A voice within the room calls, very likely the said Nina. Lilia gave a high pitched squawk akin to that of a bird, slamming her fist again.

“It is just a ribbon Nina! The world is FULL of ribbons, you’ll find another!” Lilia roars. There is no answer. Lilia promptly turned to Viktor, glaring. “Break down this door!” No conditions, no bargains, just a command. Viktor rose a brow. Lilia gave a heavy sigh. “My lead is locked in there and will not dance until she finds her stupid ribbon. She couldn't meet your son even if she had the time.” Viktor checks his watch.

“Where is her understudy?”

“She is in a cab over, with a head cold.” Lilia’s rage was beginning to make sense now, though with her, it rarely mattered if it made sense or not, she was simply a stern woman. Viktor reached forward, knocking lightly on the door.

“Nina?”

“Even if you break this lock I will not go out like this!” Nina called out in a way only a child reared in the theater could.

“I am not a locksmith, my name is Viktor Nikiforov.” It sounded as if something heavy dropped from the dressing room. Light feet moved closer. “Is that ribbon a lucky charm?” Viktor allowed for a pause.

“My grandmother gave it to me when I was trying out for the ballet four years ago. If I wear it opening night, then not a single performance will go bad that season.” She sounded ready to cry. Viktor fished in his pockets.

“I understand, I'm a skater,” there was a squeak from behind the door.

“I know,” Nina whispered.

“I have a charm too, you know. He pulled lint from his pocket, frowning as he fished in his jacket pocket instead, suddenly beaming as he felt silk. “My mother made it for me when I first flew overseas, in case I caught a cold.” He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket. “I kept it by my heart all through that first round, and won my very first gold.” Viktor rubbed the navy silk between his fingers, “May I entrust it to you?” The door flew open, revealing a beautiful young woman no more than twenty, eyes wide.

“What!”

“Will you take my luck charm tonight? I know I am not your grandmother, but like her, I am a huge fan of yours,” Viktor gave a small smile, “and it would be my honour to lend you my luck for the night.” Nina looks from the offered hanky, to the winning smile offering it.

“You… you watch my dancing?”

“I adore it, my father and son introduced me to your work, and I had to come see it in person, the way you dance, lord, I am put to shame...” Nina turned a bright pink.

“Oh?” Nina squeaked. Somewhere beyond her Lilia gave Viktor a dirty look, having seen him pull this nonsense countless other times, and knowing that her ballet was now hinged on his silver tongue.

“I would be so honored if you took my charm tonight, and put it to good use.” Viktor bowed his head, offering the handkerchief. Nina seemed to have her brain reboot briefly, before reaching forward to pull the silk from Viktor's fingers.

“I will, but only on one condition, if you let me meet your son.” Nina put a hand over her face, hiding her embarrassment. “And, if he's here, can I get you and your husband to sign my shoes?” Viktor didn't have to act, he beamed at this.

“Of course.”

“Right now? If you wouldn't mind? I will be a mess after the show.”

“Nina! The show is starting now!” Lilia finally cut in.

“We are in the fourth balcony, if we hurry I can have you there and back in two minutes.” Viktor estimates.

“Viktor! We don't have time!” Lilia shreaked.

“I’ll be just a moment Lilia!” Nina beamed. And together Nina and Viktor run all the way to the balcony, laughing as they ran, the angry expression Lilia wore familiar to both of them.

“She tutored me when I was younger, but I never noticed til now that she and Yakov reach the exact same pitch of infuriated when desperate.” Viktor laughed.

“I never heard him scold much, but I have heard rumors that they were too perfect for each other.” Nina smiles “And I have had more than my fair share of lectures from Lilia, so I can guess.” she seemed to lose her timid shy persona from before now, and Viktor almost wondered if it was just an act to aggravate Lillia, he pulled similar stunts on Yakov.

“It's really just that perfect mix of anger and exasperation, I think.” Viktor pants, pushing open the door to the fourth floor.

“It’s like I have offered to watch her evil cat, and am now dangling it from a balcony, really.” Viktor gave a short chuckle.

“Yes, exactly that.”

“So what am I to say to your son? I assume that was the real reason you came barging through opening night waving handkerchiefs at the first person to meet your son.

“You see through me Nina.”

“It's not hard, we’re cut from the same cloth. So what role do I play for him?”

“Pretend you love his skating and that his axel is the smoothest you’ve ever seen.” Viktor says, then adds, “and also that you're glad he could make it.”

They waltz down the hall at a half jog, stepping onto the balcony and meeting Viktor’s family, who all are waiting patiently. Viktor cleares his throat, making Nikolai turn around, and then gape.

“Nina Ivanova! My god, I thought he was lying.” Nikolai gasped. Viktor's smile turned smug, winking at a shocked Yuuri.

“Are you really a ballerina?” Yuri asks. Nina walked to the boy, crouching down.

“I am, and you must be little Yuri.” Nina reaches a hand out to shake.

“I, I am.”

“I have heard so much about your skating, I just had to meet you.” Nina beamed. Yuuri rose his brows in question, but Viktor simply put a finger to his lips, smiling.

“You have?”

“Your father talks a lot about you, little one. You have a great talent in you, I just know it.”

“You do?”

“I can see it.” Nina winked.

Viktor passed a pink slipper to Yuuri, clicking Yuuri's mouth shut with the back of his hand. “Have more faith in your husband,” Viktor put an pen in Yuuri's other hand, “and sign here please.”

After a little pep talk, a short chat with Nikolai, and a quick commemorative photo, Nina collected her shoes and stepped out. Viktor followed after her.

“I appreciate you coming up here, even though you don't have time.” Viktor smiled. “I know it’s nerve wracking just before a performance.”

Nina waved her hand, “It's not a problem I should be saying thank you to you, Lilia has been cross with me all week, and this will ensure a small payback,” she lifts the slippers with the writing on them. “and for these. I will practice in them and absorb your talent.” Viktor laughed.

“I hope not all of it, I need some. Do tell Lilia I’m sorry, I doubt she’ll forgive me but it’s worth a try.”

“Stress helps her focus, she needs me to be  sporadic now and then.”

“I used to do that with Yakov. Coaches can get preshow jitters pretty bad if you don't keep them in a constant state of anger.”

Nina gives a warm laugh, “It’s true! Had you not come along though, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

“It's nothing, I know you’ll do well.”

“I will, your grandmother will insure that.” She winked, waving the hanky as she dashed back down the hall.

The lights dimmed as Viktor returned to his seat, and Yuuri leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Was she holding that handkerchief I bought you last week?” Yuuri hissed. Viktor chuckled, patting the back of Yuuri's hand.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told her is was my luck charm.”

“You don't have a luck charm.”

“I have you.” Viktor smiled, leaning over to kiss the top of Yuuri's head. Yuuri frowned, then shook his head chuckling.

“I love you even though you're full of it, I hope you realize that.” Yuuri put his hand over Viktors.

“I couldn't ask for more.” Viktor hummed, leaning down for a proper kiss.

The performance was one of the best Viktor had ever seen, and when your coach is dating a ballet instructor, you see a lot of productions of the Nutcracker. It's partly because of the production, but mostly it was the company. The excitement of little Yuri as he watched the stage fill with dancers, telling a story he’d never heard. The soft commentary from Nikolai as the ballet went on, facts about the script, dancers, and of course how difficult some of the movements were.

It brought a feel to going out, both Viktor and Yuuri had forgotten. The soft warmth of people you love enjoying something with you. Though Yuuri had gone to movies with Phichit, and Viktor had practically made a name for himself with Chris in all of Europe, there was something wonderful about taking your family somewhere. Something just feels... right about it.

The performance came to an end, and the four made their way slowly down and out to the main foyer. Viktor got an earful from Lilia, and mutually followed Nina on instagram. Though Yuuri gave a look, he told her to keep the handkerchief until she found her ribbon, it did her more good than he after all, as he was retired.

Then at last, they were at home, a sleeping Yuri tucked away, and a happy but exhausted. Yuuri carried Yuri to his bed, Viktor carrying the tiger backpack and dress shoes. The tucked him in  with a kiss. Yuri sturred.

“Can we go out again sometime?” Yuri mumbles, Viktor and Yuri smile.

“Of course.”

“Good..” Yuri hums falling asleep. The couple quietly leave the room grinning. Nikolai notices them and waves

“What are you doing here? Go finish your plans.” He says, then toddles off to his room.

“Chris is likely waiting for us.”

“I haven't the energy to walk, let alone drink champagne and get my nails done” Viktor whined.

“We could bypass his spa date, and head right to bed.”

“Oh? I might be able to manage to walk that far.” Viktor chuckled, locking the door as they left.

They met Chris at the hotel, looking as if he hadn't been bothered in the very least to be abandoned. Even so, Viktor apologised.

“I’m sorry we ruined the evening.” Yuuri bowed.

“No, I'm sorry to you two, I should have remembered the value of spending an hour with family. You have a new family, and with it new people you care about, and I should have realized.” Chris chuckled. “Doesn't mean you can get out of spending time  with me, but it does mean I understand at least.”

Though the words seemed obvious now that they had been said, they had never quite occurred to Viktor or Yuuri. They had been thinking to this point that their lives had become far more stressful than they anticipated. They had been so caught up in being tired and acting as parents that they had forgotten how much they adored their family. How excited they were for Christmas when they would all fly down to Japan so Yuri and the triplets could finish their game of pretend, as Nikolai and Toshia spoke through Viktor and Yuuri. The warm feeling of family on early mornings as Yuri sat on his high chair eating happily at his place as Viktor and Yuuri smiled proudly at each other.

It was not that now they were new people, but simply people with more responsibilities and people to care about. Not a end of their story but a new found chapter. Viktor chuckles softly reaching out to hug his friend.

“I appreciate it Chris. You’ve always had an eye for things that people don't even know they need.” Viktor pat Chris’ back. “Thank you so much for being willing to do this…. It means the world.”

“It was quite a chore you know, pulling tickets and reservations around, you owe me,” Chris gave a peevish smirk, “the night's still young though, spend it living like you're twenty-two and we’ll call it even.”

Viktor pulled back laughing, “how about twenty-five, I doubt I can muster the energy for younger.” Chris looked Viktor over then shrugged.

“I’ll take it.”

It wasn't until hours later they were allowed alone in their hotel room. They lay, staring up at the white ceiling fully clothed backs on top of the covers more exhausted in one night by Chris than the months they had spent chasing Yuri.

“Viktor?” Yuuri hummed, half expecting soft snoring for an answer. Viktor took in a breath blinking rapidly.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember last December?”

“Which part?” Viktor sounded like he might be drifting off.

“Before Yuri.” Yuuri turned to look at Viktor slowly shaking his head.

“Was it really only a year ago?” Viktor chucks, “I feel like I aged ten years since then.”

“It's amazing to think back, when we were just two, in our little apartment, planning dates and arguing over who does dishes.”

“Amazing….” Viktor hummed.

“Now here we are, too tired to even cuddle, laying in a hotel bought for us to have sex in simply because we haven't in…” Yuuri begins counting on his fingers.

“Months at least….”  Viktor hummed. Yuuri went quiet, looking to the door.

“Think he’s sitting out there listening?”

“Knowing him, he’s bugged the room…” Viktor turned a sleepy wink to Yuuri. They both laughed.

“Come here,” Yuuri gestured Viktor over, scooting closer himself while Viktor half rolled to meet him in the middle and rest his head on Yuuri's chest, listening to his heart.

The room has a comforting chill to it, feeling similar to a early morning in their old apartment to the point they half expected Makkachin to hop up on the bed with them. The feeling of the hotel the decor looked nothing like their old home, but the way Viktor’s finger drew hearts on Yuuri's chest, and Yuuri cradled Viktor felt more like home than anything ever could.

“Is it bad, that after all this I’m still worried about Yuri?” Viktor  whispered.

“I keep trying to remember if we remembered to get someone to feed the damn cat.” Yuuri chuckled.

“Yuri probably poured her, her weight in food.”

“The bags are fifteen pounds, she only two or three right now. Most likely she got her fill then Makkachin ate fourteen pounds of kittenchow,” Yuuri said. Viktor sat up suddenly looking surprised. “Kittenchow won't hurt Makkachin, don’t worry.”

“No, I just remembered, my birthday is in a week.” Viktor exclaimed as if it were something he’d never realized. “ around this time last year was when Yuri first ran away to our house right?” Yuuri blinked, then his eyes widened.

“We were going to see the nutcracker but missed it to find Yuri.”

“But now…”

“We saw it with him….” Yuuri shook his head, smiling softly. It was as if even then they knew the little monster waiting for them at home was meant to join them, as if even back then little Yuri felt left out from the nutcracker. As if this whole time they had been waiting to watch ballet with their son.

“Where did those tickets end up? Do we have them still?”

“Probably still in the box of letters.”

“Its probably still stuck between the letters to you and the letters to Yuri.” Viktor laughed. “It's perfect.”

“Life always finds a way to be.” Yuuri hummed. Viktor ran his hands through Yuuri's hair laying back down on his heart.

“life is beautiful, painful and hard, but Beautiful.”

“In this moment, everything feels so right it seems impossible for anything else to happen next.”

“Yeah.”

“But I want it to, I want to wake up tomorrow and wrestle Yuri off the cat into pants and onto the ice. I want to take it all on another day, and become stressed to hell and back.”

“It sounds terrible. Mind if I come along?”

Yuuri laughed running his hands through Viktor's hair. “No, not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading until the very end!!! We are very excited to have finished this, and we are glad we could keep our promise in seeing it to its completion. We hope we were able to meet everyone's expectations and are excited about everyone's continued support!
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